


Wise Deceit

by missema



Series: Forever In Love [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amaranthine (Dragon Age), Anonymous Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Counterfeiting, Denerim, Drama & Romance, Exes, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Ferelden, Highever, Intrigue, Investigations, Kidnapping, Mercenaries, Nobility, Outdoor Sex, POC Main character, Party, Post-Blight, Romance, Royalty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-09 20:50:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13489515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missema/pseuds/missema
Summary: Alistair is King of Ferelden, and it's a lonely job that he mostly still doesn't want, despite doing it since triumphing over the Blight. When he holds a masquerade at his palace, he meets the enchanting Cordelia Cousland, though he had no idea who his charming lady is under the cover of masks and moonlight.Cordelia would have loved to know more about the sweet highwayman she met at the masque, but after one quick night together, she has more pressing issues to deal with. While Alistair's determined to find her, someone else, a much less benevolent someone, is on her trail in Denerim as well, but this veteran of the Battle of Denerim knows how to take care of herself and hide. At least she would normally, if half of her contacts and the nobility hadn't died in the Blight.With dangers in the shadows and no name for her highwayman, Cordelia disappears in Alistair's city, and even the king's protection doesn't mean an immediate end to the danger.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This a prompt bingo square that got way out of hand. This story features a non-Warden Coulsand who escaped from Highever. Enjoy!

He was king of all Ferelden, elected by the landholders and entrusted with the power of the nation. He was king, and therefore he made the rules, or so he foolishly thought. He didn't make all the rules, at least not according to all of the very smart people he'd trusted to help him, and while he could accept that most of the time, now he wished he did make all the rules. Alistair shouldn't be forced to go to parties when what he wanted to do was sit in his room next to the fire with his dog, Calenhad, Callie for short. A dog was a very good companion and very Fereldan. He had to spend time with his dog. It should be expected of their king. Parties should not be expected, and he was considering making a declaration that they were too Orlesian to be trusted.

He missed the Hero of Ferelden, his best friend, Brosca, but they'd left with Morrigan and went off to do whatever a dwarf and an apostate in love do together, and he was alone in Denerim. The dog was a gift from Brosca before they left, sired from their own warhound that helped them defeat the Blight. Alistair loved the dog, had loved and raised him since he'd last seen Brosca. The dog had become his best companion, and he missed having companions. He felt alone otherwise.

But he wasn't alone, at least not in the strictest sense. A king was never alone, not truly. But more than that, his capital city was filled with the members of the nobility, his peers and underlings and all of their servants. The whole mess of people were in town for this blasted party that he was hosting. The party that he should be getting ready for tonight, but was instead sitting in the room petting his dog in protest, until Callie nudged his costume closer and closer to him, before putting the boots right at his feet and walking pointedly away.

There should be a hat for his costume, he knew most highwaymen had hats, but Callie had chewed his up. It didn't so much look like a hat anymore, and even though his dog had discarded it, it still smelled like dog. A chewed up, smelly hat would be just the thing to add to his disguise. Alistair was sure no one would even talk to him if he was wearing it, and if he must go to a party, he at least wanted to have a little fun. It was unlikely that he would truly enjoy himself, but he was hopeful.

Here he was forced to attend his own party in a disguise. He would rather feed his dog a whole cheese wheel, and suffer the consequences rather than be have a party but now that it was here, he was looking forward to not working for the night. And the mask would be useful, for as long as it actually did disguise him. His hair was a little longer than normal and though he hadn't planned it, had become part of the disguise. It was darker than usual as well, all the time spent indoors and pouring over parchment had taken the sun out of his hair and dulled it. He still had his physique, but he worked for it now, training with the guards and sparring with just about anyone whenever he had the chance, sometimes making time for it when he really didn't have any.

He couldn't give everything up to this lonely kingship. It was lonely, of that Alistair had no illusions. The thought had crossed his mind that this was how Maric must have felt, whenever he gave into temptation after becoming a widower and having the tryst that resulted in Alistair, but he didn't like to think on that too much. It was easier to envy comfortable, established love, and he wished he knew what Brosca and Morrigan shared, how they could be together through everything, what that kind of support felt like. His friends were wonderful, and they were always in and out, but he was lonely and without a confidant or an equal.

It felt like his time at the Chantry.

Alistair slid on his mask and looked in the mirror, reassuring himself that he didn't look like, well, himself, and went to pet Callie and left the room with a sigh. 

"See you soon, Callie," Alistair said, leaning down to pat his dog on the head. Callie was settled in on his own bed, gnawing at a bone. Alistair gave his dog a wistful look before closing the door and starting down the hall.

#

This party was stupid. 

She was practically the only brown-skinned person in Ferelden's nobility, even her own family had been fucking white as bleached bone, and she the oddity. Her mother was of mixed blood, a little Antivan here, a little Rivaini there, and her father added some Chasind to his mix of Ferelden uppercrust. Let it never be said that the Couslands discriminated against the color of the ass they chased. That egalitarian lust meant that she was a dusky brown skinned girl naturally with dark hair and a mix of features that just stood out among the spectrum of white skin that ranged from ruddy to pale among the Ferelden nobility.

So Cordelia hated going to parties like these, because the point was to hide, and she could never truly hide.

But Fergus had asked, begged and cajoled her into going and here she was in Denerim at the family estate. Save for the small amount of servants that tended the house and her own maid, Cordelia was alone, and she had to go to this party held by the new king.

She didn't know this king, though she'd never come to Denerim to know King Cailan either, at least not formally. Once she'd gone fishing with him before, well, before everything. He'd been sweet, easy to talk to and terrible at fishing. He'd been waiting for Fergus to go with him, and Cordelia had run down to tell him that her brother had taken ill. He asked her to go instead, and though she wasn't the companion he'd had in mind for the day, she liked to think she was still good company. That had been eight years ago, at the beginning of his reign when she was only thirteen.

Cordelia blew out a tired breath, trying to calm herself. Every time she thought of the fate of her parents, she wanted to cry, to scream, to try to understand the unfairness of the brutality. She'd only survived because she and Dairren had fought their way out, her mother buying them time with her life. Then they'd run, him injured and slow, and Maker, she'd thought she was going to die at every turn. Dairren had been sure his father was in league with Howe -- murdering his son's mother apparently meant nothing to Bann Loren. They'd run to Redcliffe, only to wind up there just behind the Hero of Ferelden, when the beleaguered and battered citizenry were trying to put their lives back together and wondered if their arl yet lived.

Maker, she didn't want to think about it anymore, it was hard enough to live under it everyday.

Since she couldn't really hide who she was, Cordelia didn't try. She was dressed as a peacock, the blue of her dress setting off her skin perfectly, the feathered mask elaborate and hard to wear, but beautiful all the same. In the deep v-neck of the figure hugging dress, she dusted her skin with glittering powder, after simmering in a rosewater bath. Her long dark hair was pulled into an elaborate series of rolls and curls, held in place with so many pins, it wouldn't move with even the most vigorous of activity.

In a room full of filth covered, disgusting nobles, she'd at least take comfort in the fact that she didn't stink under all her finery. And she wouldn't spend the night with anyone that smelled either. There were lines she didn't cross. With a last check of her face and a quick re-application of her lip stain, she was ready to leave.

If she was going to stand out, she'd make it worth their while.

#

The masque started like any other party, and Alistair was found out almost as soon as he opened his mouth. He should have disguised his voice or just refused to talk, but he couldn't, and soon more people than not knew the king was dressed as a highwayman. His only refuge was that there were about twenty other highwaymen in attendance, and he at least was part of that crowd. If his hat hadn't been mangled by Callie, he might have been able to blend in even more.

It was too hot in here, and every second person was a royal attendant, asking him how he was. Teagan had set them to watch him, he knew it. In this new role as the royal advisor, Teagan was growing to be more like Eamon, except less cautious. He was fretting over Alistair like a mother hen because he'd made the mistake of confiding in Teagan about how lonely he was. Since then, his uncle had gone out of the way to procure him company of all sorts. Some of it worked, and Alistair quite enjoyed the minstrels hired for perform for him and the soldiers and mercenaries that came to train and fight with him. The others were just strange and a little unsettling, like that damn mime that wouldn't leave the palace. The women were nice enough, but he felt funny about bedding people that only came to him because he was king, and so he'd asked for it to stop. Alistair sighed to himself just thinking about it, and in scanning the parquet dancefloor, saw no one he wanted to partner. In truth, he still just wanted to head back to his quarters.

Knowing that escape was nigh impossible, they'd just drag him back down, he went out towards the hedge maze in the garden. He wanted to get away from the crush of people and clear his head away from the music and talk that made the noise level a dull roar inside. Alistair wasn't the only one that must have felt that way, because there were so many people on the path he nearly turned around, but what waited behind him he'd already discarded and at least what lay ahead was a diversion, so he kept going. When he got just inside of the maze, he stopped short. 

A woman was standing there, nursing some kind of injury but otherwise looking very beautiful in a lapis blue dress and golden feathered mask. He didn't know her, but Alistair had the overwhelming feeling that he should. She radiated importance, and moreover, she wasn't trying to hide at a party where people reveled in disguising themselves. Her dress alone would garner more than a glance from most people, and had she taken off the mask, she could have gone to the opera or any formal event where the point was to be seen. 

This woman, whoever she may be, looked as disinterested in the masque as he was, and she was cursing a blue streak in whispers as she tried to move her wrist. It would be ungentlemanly to leave a such beautiful woman in distress.

"Are you all right?" he asked, drawing closer to her. She smiled at him, bright even in the moonlight. She had pretty smile, more than that, he realized belatedly, was probably someone he should already know. If she knew him, she might be offended.

"If you're of a mind to go down the path, beware. I tripped over something and went flying. Maker only knows what it was, and I think I sprained my wrist. It's not broken, but it does hurt," she said, but she moved it, he saw a flicker of pain cross the part of her face left uncovered by the feathered mask.

"I can help," Alistair said, fingers going to his belt. It was one of the parts of his costume that wasn't in character, but he refused to go anywhere without supplies. Flipping open the a pocket, he took out a bandage and wrapped her wrist for her. She looked surprised, but held her wrist steady so he could affix the bandage.

It had been like this during the Blight. People needed help, and he was prepared. Alistair always wanted to help, but it seemed like he was doing less and less of that these days. Being king wasn't, well, it wasn't like being a Warden, but few things were. He finished the bandage and made sure it wasn't too tight, then secured it after his patient said it was fine. She brushed closer to him after the bush behind them rustled, and he wondered idly if there were snakes in the maze.

"You're good at that," she remarked, giving him a grateful smile.

"I've had some practice," Alistair said, smiling back at her.

"I owe you a kiss," she said, and moved closer to him. Alistair started and took a half-step back, his hands out in front of him.

"Not that I'm not interested in kissing you, you're very lovely, but how do you owe me a kiss?" he asked, his voice slightly higher than normal. The realization that he was excited to entertain the idea of kissing her took him by surprise, but he decided to go with it. He'd kiss her. Best to be bold and do it. Tonight at least, he didn't want to think too deeply on his feelings.

"You've never been to an Orlesian masque, I take it? Kisses are currency there, or some other kind of favor, and you did just help me. If you don't want my kiss, I can give you some free advice. Don't go in the maze. I thought to walk it to see if it's changed, but it's full of couples in every dead end alcove. Coupling. I think I tripped on some trousers carelessly thrown into the path."

"Oh," Alistair said and took another step further from the bush that had just rustled, pulling her with him by the uninjured arm. If there were more people behind the bushes than he couldn't see, some discretion was needed. No telling who was back there, or what they might think of him taking kisses from this woman.

And he was a little embarrassed, he could admit that, though he was willing to overcome it tonight. It was the full moon, perhaps, filling him with unexpected boldness and a mind to embrace his desires. He'd been with two women since he'd become king, but neither could hold a candle to this resplendent woman. The bush behind them moaned and he made a face, prompting a tinkling laugh of true amusement from the masked lady. He liked the sound of her laugh. Alistair warmed, and pulled her closer to him as if he could protect her, even though he'd only stumbled upon her a few minutes before.

"What are you dressed as?" he asked, his voice low as he leaned down to meet her gaze as he spoke to her. Merry brown eyes twinkled up at him as she put an answering arm around him, the two of them nearly embracing now.

"I'm a peacock."

"Are they always so beautiful?" he asked, and she laughed again, but it was sweet, amused laughter, not mocking or cruel. She took a step back from him, walking out of his embrace towards the entrance to the maze. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him.

"You should have taken the kiss," the peacock said, and held out her hand. He took it, unsure of why he wanted to, but glad he did. "You still can, you know."

"Not here," Alistair said firmly. If he was going to go around kissing strange women, he wasn't going to do it where the whole court of Ferelden could see their king's indiscretions highlighted in the moonlight. He held her hand in his, lacing her warm, slender fingers through his own, careful of her bandaged wrist. She had callused hands, ones that knew how to hold a weapon, he suspected, and was interested to know how she fought. "I know a better place than this anyway."

"Lead the way," she said, and Alistair walked them both out of the hedge maze.


	2. Chapter 2

She was quite sure she was holding the hand of a retainer of the seneschal, or someone that worked closely with them. Not that Cordelia minded, but she was damn curious. He was good at solving problems, practiced at aiding the injured and as she saw when he fished a key from a cord around his neck, he had access to private parts of the castle. He definitely worked here, or traveled to here a great deal. 

Dressed as a highwayman, her newest friend gently guided her further into the palace grounds. Before he pushed open another gate, this one only knee high, he turned to ask in a whisper if she was okay. When Cordelia nodded, he went on, his actions proclaiming that he was far from the ignoble rogue his costume proclaimed him to be.

Maybe he was with Bann Teagan -- they'd been talking earlier and his household was in Denerim. This was the first time she'd been to King Alistair's court, and she had no idea who the servants were. Cordelia swept her gaze over his build, the broadness of his shoulders and the solid mountain of muscle the man seemed to be as he gently held her hand. Maybe not a seneschal's staff member, but a knight or man at arms. When she leaned close to him, he smelled like limes and mint, and that was not the soap of a poor man unless he was paid in toiletries instead of gold.

Either way, he was important, and she was likely going to be found out. Even if he didn't know who she was at this moment, he could simply ask around and find out her name. A description of her would be short and easy to follow up on, and she'd been stuck in several conversations with other nobles she couldn't get out of earlier. 

Everyone knew Cordelia Cousland was here and wearing the peacock mask. Half the ballroom had seen her speaking to Bann Teagan, though she'd only conversed with him for a few moments, her hopes to greet the king dashed because Teagan had no idea where he was. He was glad to see her especially, and asked that if she didn't meet the king tonight, could she come for an audience tomorrow afternoon? Probably after he slept off his hangover.

She let the thought go as her highwayman rescuer led her into a deserted garden with a fountain in the middle. The white marble of it shown in the moonlight, and the gentle splash of water was almost musical in the near silence. The only sounds besides her breathing was the distant noise of the party, drowned by the water fountain's steady patter.

"This is beautiful, Ser Highwayman. What a peaceful place," she breathed, letting go of his hand to get closer to the fountain. She turned in a full circle with her arms out and smiled at him, beckoning him in. Her dress had tight shoulders, so it wasn't as magnificent as she would have liked, but he was smiling back at her in the moonlight. Straight, white teeth. Definitely someone important, and he came willingly into her arms. Cordelia couldn't help but smile up at him, admiring as she did. He was handsome, but not the type that breeds arrogance. His covered nose she couldn't see well, but his chin and jaw were strong, his eyes tired but definitely warming up to her.

"I'm glad my Lady Peacock thinks so. Tell me something, I've never seen a peacock before. Are they truly that blue?"

"Oh yes," she said, thinking back to her time in Val Royeaux. "Their wings are magnificent, multicolored with an eye at the end, but their body color is unrivaled. Most of them are blue, but there are also white ones. They are breathtaking as well, but I prefer it when things are colorful," she said with a smile.

She inclined her head towards the benches that ringed the fountain and he led her there without her asking. Another mark to add to the tally in unraveling the identity of Ser Highwayman -- good at picking up on physical signals. They sat down together on a stone bench made of the same marble as the fountain and looked over at him. Her highwayman was quiet, his attention on the fountain for a moment before he refocused on her. "Can I still claim my kiss?" he asked, and there was a bashfulness in him that made her grin.

"Of course," Cordelia murmured and moved closer to him on the bench. "A good deed warrants repayment, after all, and kisses are the offering of the night." She slid a hand up along the curve of his arm and up his shoulder until she reached his neck and pulled him in towards her. He resisted a little, and she felt years of instinct and training being repressed as he closed the space between them. 

When she kissed him, it started off light, a chaste thanks for his help and for bringing her away from the chaos of the party. He leaned into her, pressing their bodies closer together. After a second, Cordelia forgot herself, forget that she'd just sneaked into the king's private gardens with one of his knights, and responded to his desire. Ser Highwayman wasn't the best kisser she'd ever met, but far from the worst and Cordelia surmised he probably just suffered from a lack of experience. The benevolent thing to do would be to keep kissing him, and she did, her tongue teasing his when she got the chance, deepening the kiss.

Her other hand slid up his chest, feeling the hardness of the broad expanse and eventually curling into his hair, careful to keep her bandaged wrist steady. She wanted this man, so much that it was making her reckless in the dark, her only consolation was that he seemed to desire her just as much. It was he that broke apart first, gently pulling away and taking her hands in his as they both caught their breath.

"There must be something about these balls," he commented, setting off a wave of laughter from Cordelia. It took him a second or so, but he caught on and muttered something that sounded that she couldn't make out, save for a name that might have been 'Severn'. "I didn't meant it like that," he said as her giggles subsided. He laughed too, despite himself, and Cordelia liked the sound of his soft, begrudging chuckles. She found herself leaning in to flirt with him before she could stop herself.

"I haven't yet experienced the magic of those balls yet," Cordelia said, swallowing another laugh, "but I could be convinced."

#

Maybe it was the moonlight making him mad, but he wasn't going to just let Lady Peacock go with just a kiss. He'd taken her to this place with the intention to talk, to tell her who he was and ask about her life, but Alistair just couldn't, he couldn't. The allure of being anonymous, just the knight she thought he was, it was too tempting, felt too much like being himself again, just Warden Alistair. Her feathered mask brushed against his skin as he kissed her again and Alistair wondered how they did it in Orlais, where they wore these silly masks most of the time. That thought was fleeting as his lady renewed their kiss, her tongue finding his once again as she pulled him close until he had to break away again to breathe.

Any woman that kissed a kind stranger like that deserved his undivided attention. He kissed her hand, the one attached to the wrist he'd bandaged, carefully lifting it to his lips. Her face was mostly in shadow in the dark garden, but he could see her smile, the interested flicker in her eyes as kissed her again, this time on her lips, then pulling back to kiss her chin, and sliding down to kiss her neck. Her skin was so soft, and smelled like warm roses and he kissed her lower, past her collarbone and down to where the neck of her dress exposed the glittering skin of her chest. Her dress was near painted on, and he wouldn't dare move it, but when he kissed her breast through the fabric, he heard her sigh.

He was aware that he'd been followed; Royal Guards flickered in and out of the corners of his vision even as they sat there in the shifting darkness of a somewhat cloudy full moon. It would be remiss of him not to mention this to his lady, so he whispered to her. "We are not alone, my lady. I think guards are patrolling."

"I can be quiet if you can," she said, twisting in his arms to look him in the eye. "But if you'd rather stop, I understand."

"Not at all," Alistair said, his voice too loud after their whispers. She giggled again and he lowered his voice once more. "You needn't um, worry about the necessaries," he said. Teagan had told him to take his condom, and a king could never be too careful. Alistair was just surprised that he was actually going to use it, but the scent of roses and skin, the taste of soft, full lips under a golden mask had him throwing caution to the wind.

"You have them in your trusty utility belt?" she asked, and kissed him. It was a while before he could respond in the affirmative.

They were kissing and moving closer to each other, where it was possible. His hands roamed freely over her, encouraged by the little sounds she made as they moved from one extended kiss into another. All of her bits were just lovely, warm under his touch, and well, they felt perfect to him, but he hadn't touched many women. Alistair felt her touch skimming over different parts of him as well, pulling him further into their kiss, pressing against his chest, brushing over his thighs and groin lightly. She was bold, but not too much until she wriggled out of his grip and stood.

He didn't know what she was doing until he did, she'd stood to hike up the tight skirt of her dress and take off her smallclothes. She slid them off and waited for a breath, until Alistair stood too and loosened his own breeches, drawing his cock out from them. The sheath he'd implied was in his belt was there and he rolled the lambskin over his erection and tied the ribbon at the base while she watched. It was awkward, to know she was there and could see everything but he was too far gone to care.

"Sit back down," she ordered and he did, bare ass grateful that he'd been warming the smooth stone of the bench beforehand. It was nearly comfortable to sit on, but he still felt the chill go through him, despite the warmth of the summer night air. Then she stood astride him, carefully lowering herself onto him until he was inside of her, and they were both groaning. Her dress covered everything, the fabric brushing over his bare skin as she began to move.

It happened so fast, but they were helped by the illicit darkness and the kisses they'd shared earlier. She was levering herself up and down on him, and it was all he could do to hold onto her hips, to keep her upright. The faster she went, the harder she was to hold, so he settled for one hand on the small of her back and the other gripping the edge of the bench. Had it been up to him, he would have taken the cape off his costume and spread it on the bench and laid her on top of it, but this was more exciting for both of them. Her body was silhouette and moonlight, dark shapes and outlines and then slivery dappled bronze skin. She was still kissing him, but now muttering encouragement both to him and the Maker, the two of them moaning and grunting, making enough commotion that no one could question what they were up to in front of the fountain.

They couldn't be quiet, either one of them, but Alistair was glad for it. He wanted to hear her, even if he couldn't see her that well, to hear each squeak and breathy moan and blasphemous muttering. When he thrust up to meet her hips, the move almost toppled them both over, and he felt rather than heard her laugh as she pulled herself closer to him, her chest so close he could kiss it without much effort, so he did, often.

Then he felt her clench, and he knew it was through no skill of his own that she found release. He was new to this, but he felt thunder as it went through her, heard her stifled cry and saw her eyes close as it came on her. Alistair toppled right after she did, brought forth by the intensity of her climax, the velvety hot grip of her around him as it happened. He had not promised to be quiet and wasn't, but his breathy oaths and low roar weren't nearly as noisy as he could have been.

She held him afterward, when he felt like liquid -- no form without a container -- and they were both panting. Lady Peacock, whoever she was, clung to him until their combined heat drove them apart, and then she stood up to put herself to rights. Alistair was intensely curious now as to her identity, but still didn't want to reveal his own. If she knew he was king, if anyone found out, well, he knew Teagan wouldn't be pleased.

"Are you well?" he asked as she smoothed down her skirt for the second time. "I hope that was satisfactory, my lady," he said, aware of the bashful note that colored his words again, and cursing himself inwardly. Alistair always sounded like a naive templar, no matter how much he'd done or what he'd achieved. The Chantry discipline in him refused to be banished.

"It was bloody amazing, thank you. I just need to regain my balance." She was still breathing heavily, though it was improved from before. He stood up and put himself to rights, making sure to pull up his smallclothes first so he wouldn't get tangled in his trousers, then held out a hand to steady her elbow.

"Thank you," she said again, sounding more normal.

"Sit," Alistair said, and motioned back to the bench. He was eager to touch her still, talk be with her, even if they didn't talk, he didn't want her to leave yet. The connection he'd felt to her instantly, the one that made him take up her offer of a kiss was intensified now, and he thought about taking off the mask as she sat down beside him. He didn't, but said, "We don't have to leave yet."

#

Her head was spinning, her body thrumming with the dim pulse of her climax, the feeling of him, thick and ready inside of her again and again. She'd done the work on this, and her dress was constraining. Never again would she wear something like this to a costume ball -- next time she was wearing one of the old style magister's togas or strategically placed barbarian furs. 

Honestly, she wasn't sure there would be another meeting like this, another time when she was this lucky. Her gracious and lovely partner was still with her, but didn't push her to talk or try to leave her alone. They were just sitting together now, she leaning up against Ser Highwayman's chest with his arm looped loosely around her. The fountain, witness to their enthusiastic coupling still went on with its soothing noises as they said nothing more to each other. It was a comfortable silence, not awkward or filling her with dread, but just two people enjoying a few more peaceful moments together after sharing intimacy. Cordelia hadn't known this since Highever, since the night her family was attacked. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, banishing the memory in favor of burrowing deeper into Ser Highwaymen's embrace.

This man had to be a knight of some kind. Sworn into service at a young age, he was dutiful and high ranking, possibly a member of the king's guard. His duty had left him inexperienced, but his stamina and blessed endowment more than made up for it. He was strong but not forceful, his hands had been kind and guiding throughout it all, and Cordelia felt a little vexed that she would never know the name of this kind, gentle warrior. She wanted to know him, to figure out if this was something they could do again, so she with a deep inhalation, she took her chance.

"I don't want to pry into your identity," she started and felt him tense. "No, don't tell me. I just wanted you to know that if you truly don't know who I am, it will not be difficult to find out. I'm not ashamed of what we've done here, nor am I married or otherwise in a relationship."

"So if I do want to see you again, you're free, is that what you're saying?" he asked. His voice was soft in the darkness, barely above a whisper, but Cordelia didn't think that it was because he was tired from their exertions. On the contrary, he seemed to have more energy now than when he'd come from the ballroom down the hedge maze.

"I am not without my own duties, but not hiding. But as I said, I'll understand if you are not so free or just wish this to be just a very pleasant memory." Her hand drifted up his arm, fingers drawing lines down it and up again until he caught her hand and held them still. He was so warm, not that she was cold, but he was like a small fire as she sat leaning on him.

He was quiet after that, and Cordelia let them lapse into silence again after what she wanted to say was said. Her heart almost hoped to see him again, but she knew that as they sat there together the chances of it was unlikely. He might be a templar too, she hadn't thought of that, and it would explain his manners, the relative inexperience of his touch. Though templars were not forbidden to marry, it was damn difficult to court one, let alone get the dispensation to marry. She had no idea how a relationship with a templar or some other warrior might work, she mostly lived in Highever these days.

She just knew that she liked sitting here with him, that he had been kind and solicitous after sex, when he could have just left. That had been her expectation, that he would just let her out of the garden and she would call her carriage, but here they sat, still together, her embraced in his warmth.

"Ser Highwayman, a question, or a request, if you will," she said, turning her head towards him.

He laughed at her name for him, a chuckle full of a smoky amusement. "Go ahead, Lady Peacock."

"Will you wish with me? I have in my purse two Caprices. I thought to gain more tonight, but I feel like we should wish them into this fountain," Cordelia said, and dug into the purse that was built into her dress costume. She had two, one that hung on each hip, gold pouches on gold cord that made her items easily carried, not that she had much in there besides her caprice coins.

"Sure, but I've never done this before," he said, and he sounded very young as he asked, "how do I make a wish?"

"Just close your eyes and flip your coin into the fountain, and that's it. But don't tell me or anyone your wish," Cordelia explained. Then she took her extra coin, gave it to him and sent her own sailing into the cascade of water. A few seconds later she heard him do the same.

"I hope your wish comes true," he said to her, and for once, she was able to tell the color of his eyes behind his mask in the moonlight. They were hazel, and she filed that away, adding it to the clues she already had about him.

"I hope it does too," Cordelia answered.


	3. Chapter 3

The next morning Alistair woke up determined to find out who Lady Peacock was. She hadn't told him, but had said she wouldn't be hard to find. That gave him hope, because he was cursing himself -- he should have brought her back to his rooms. Damn the masks and hiding and everything else. Did it matter if she knew who he was after she'd said she was free? Lady Peacock wanted him to find her, and she would be a whole lot easier to find if he hadn't helped her into a carriage going away from his palace.

Even with his frustration at his own lack of foresight, he slept well that night. His dreams were peaceable for once, lacking the vague unsettling feeling that he woke up with so often since the Blight had ended. He'd slept late into the morning, tired from the party he'd gone back into and what happened before in the garden. His lady had left after the garden escapade, he'd waited for a carriage with her and helped her into it, kissing her hand goodbye as she left him.

"Lady Peacock," he'd said to her as a goodbye, kissing her hand tenderly, and earning her smile once more before she rode away.

Callie cuddled near his side, and Alistair replayed the sensations of the night before in his mind. The paths her hands had taken as they spread over his chest tingled as he recalled her touch. Her skin had felt so soft as he'd kissed it, and he could hardly believe his own boldness. He'd taken her to the private garden, kissed her, bared himself on a bench and made love to a woman whose face was obscured by both a mask and darkness. It had been the best night of his life, even if now the thought of being so bold and doing what he did out in the fountain garden made him blush. He was supposed to be a gentleman, but last night he'd acted the part of the rogue he'd dressed as.

Would it be overbearing to find her and marry her?

The thought had crossed his mind more than once that morning, as he sprawled in his own bed, wishing it was her and not Callie warming his sheets. She was extraordinary and she kissed in a way he'd remember forever, unrestrained but inexplicably soft, and had said she was free if he wanted to seek her out again. But first he had to find her, and it was that thought alone that eventually roused him from his covers, that and the needs of his bladder.

He was humming to himself as he ate breakfast, choosing to go to a balcony to eat so he could overlook the fountain garden as he did. His jubilance was contagious, with guards returning his smiles and maids humming along with him as he sat in the sun to take his meal. Alistair was smiling to himself as he spread preserves over his toast and Teagan joined him.

"Teagan," he said, spreading his arms wide in welcome. "Come eat with me. Callie's already gone to run around, as puppies do, and today is a beautiful day."

"You seem well, Your Highness," Teagan said, and Alistair noted that Teagan did not. His normally jovial uncle was distinctly sour that morning, and he looked green. He sat woodenly at the table, not partaking of any of the sliced meats, porridge, toast or fruit that made up Alistair's breakfast.

"Drink not agree with you?" Alistair asked, aware that his voice was annoyingly loud and cheery, and not caring one whit.

"It wasn't the drink. You disappeared from the party for a good while, and the guards say you took a visitor around. I hope all went well."

"I don't know who she was, Teagan," Alistair admitted leaning in towards his uncle and grinning. "But I want to see her again. She was amazing, so much better than the women I meet at court here in Denerim. I don't know if she was a noble or not, and I honestly don't care. I need to see her. She seemed important and said she could be found, so I mean to do just that."

"Was she a guest? What was she wearing?" Teagan asked. His voice was carefully neutral, but Alistair felt his tension.

"A bandage. I bandaged her wrist for her after she sprained it in the maze." Alistair glanced at Teagan's raised eyebrow and thought about it. "Oh, you mean her costume, right. She was a peacock. Blue silky dress and feathered mask," Alistair said, and was surprised to see Teagan set his head down on the table. A pained groan came up, and muttered blasphemy or two, before he asked the Maker why he was being tested. Alistair endured it all in silence until Teagan met his gaze again. His porridge bowl was quickly eaten while Teagan went on with his out of character theatrics. He picked up another piece of toast and started to spread a thick layer of red raspberry preserves over it.

"Beautiful woman, blue dress, brown skinned, gold feathered mask and lots of black hair?" When Alistair nodded eagerly, Teagan grimaced and went on, "She's Teyrn Cousland's sister, Cordelia, and she's gone missing. We were informed by the city guard of her disappearance after the party last night. Her carriage never brought her home last night, and the guard are looking for the man that summoned it for her. I suppose that was you."

"She's missing?" Alistair said, his toast losing all taste, face going slack with shock. "What's happened? Tell me everything."

"Nothing is known, other than that she was at the party, she was spotted heading out the hedge maze and then much later, in dishabille and the company of a masked gentleman, which I assume was you. They were seen waiting for a carriage which he helped her into, and between here and her family home in Denerim, she disappeared. No one has seen a trace of her since, and her household was very concerned when she didn't arrive home. It is unlike her to not have sent word that she wouldn't be returning."

"No one saw her go anywhere else after she and I were together? The carriage was one of ours, not our regular ones but the extras we hired for the party. Surely someone could figure out which was used, who the driver was," Alistair said, his insides twisting with worry. Lady Cousland, or rather, Lady Cordelia. He knew her name. She was right, her identity wasn't difficult to figure out but now, she was actually missing. Damn it all. He'd just found Cordelia Cousland, and he wasn't about to lose her now.

"We can't have her turning up dead and you were the last person with her. I assume you slept with her?" Teagan said, looking him squarely in the eye.

"Yes, I did, but that's not important or even why I want to see her again," Alistair insisted, blushing a little as he did. It was strange to admit to Teagan that he'd met a girl at a party and had sex with her when he'd specifically asked him not to send any more women his way. They'd talked about this, about how awkward it was for him to try to be casual about something he'd been told all of his life was serious business, that people should treat with the utmost reverence and do only with those they intended to marry. And now he'd gone and done what he said he didn't want to do anymore, all because of a pretty girl with good timing offered him a kiss at a party.

Alistair went on, blushes notwithstanding, "She was special. Amazingly special. Find her Teagan, I need to see her again and I can't have guests disappearing from my doorstep."

"No, you can't, especially not young women you've been with. Maker's breath, what a brilliant mess this is. I shall send the guards out at once, Your Highness. Lady Cordelia must be found," Teagan got up, bowed and walked away, leaving Alistair to mountains of food he no longer felt like eating. He would, of course, he needed the energy since he burned it faster than most, but his delectable pile of fruit and the sliced meats were no longer as enticing as they'd been just a few minutes before.

Instead Alistair looked out into the courtyard where they'd been last night, just lovers caught in the moonlight and each other. The fountain was too far away for him to hear it, but he imagined he could, and made an amended wish from the one he'd silently spoken as he threw his caprice in the fountain waters. His thoughts were all directed towards what he could do to make sure his no longer anonymous lover in the dark was returned safely to him.

"Lady Cordelia Peacock, please be okay," Alistair said, and stuffed the next piece of dry toast into his mouth without tasting it at all. Then he pushed back his chair and got up, leaving the food behind, save for an apple he stuffed into a pocket. Wishes were all well and good, but action was better. There was a woman to be saved.

#

She was being kidnapped. It was easy enough for her to understand once the carriage she'd been put into curved off the road, her driver abandoning it and running into an alleyway just as shadowy figures filled the mouth of the alleyway. The turns they'd taken from the palace were all wrong, but she'd asked, the driver had told her the roads were jammed with carriages coming from the masque. Why had she believed him? All she'd wanted to do was get home and enjoy the glow of being ravished in the dark by an eager and energetic partner, but now she had to deal with this.

Maker's breath, she only had one knife on her, and she was wearing a tight dress. With those considerations and her wrist bound up with Ser Highwayman's excellent bandaging, she wasn't going to be at her best. Still, she could give herself a chance, a better fight than they'd expect from a woman in an evening gown. Cordelia knew what to do when she was kidnapped, and there was no way she was going to let her parents down now.

"Don't let them take you alive," her mother had warned. "Whatever they do to you after they capture you is going to be harder to endure than death."

Those words made her sure of her actions, despite her minor injury and the many complications stacked against her. Cordelia made herself be still and listen, and she heard the people outside, they were talking to each other, figuring out the plan. Not professionals then, she realized, and it made them both more and less dangerous. They wouldn't expect her to fight, and so she would. Pressing herself into the furthest corner, she let her affinity for shadows take over.

Today was not her day to fight to the death. She held her breath and then forced it back to normal. No mistakes, no witnesses, no regrets.

One of the attackers, the one with a loud, annoying chuckle, was sent to open the door to her carriage. He didn't even have a weapon drawn as he tried to scramble up to where an apparently empty carriage sat, and when Cordelia slit his throat, his dying face showed his surprise. By her count of the voices, there were at least two more outside. He was mostly in the carriage and she pulled him all in before his colleagues could notice his slack legs or lack of movement. He had a cloak and she relieved him of it, before hefting his heavy body forward, keeping the cloth free. She would need it to cover her dress.

She took what she could, quickly. He had a pair of daggers, and she discarded her shoes. She slit her dress up to the thigh, mourning the beautiful creation but it was already stained with blood and she needed to be able to move quickly. It wasn't about being able to kick, but to break into a sprint. Similarly, Cordelia took the blade to her sleeves, and even though they were short, they were a hinderance. She cut the seams under both arms carefully so as not to nick the sensitive skin underneath. That small adjustment made her shoulder movements freer, and she knew from the interlude with Ser Highwayman how restrictive her dress was. Her would be kidnapper had a purse as well, and she took that, not bothering to waste her precious seconds by rifling through it. The voices outside were starting to jeer, to ask questions.

"You decided to give the rich bitch a poke?" one asked, causing a riot of laughter from the other. "Or did she pass out?"

"We won't kill you girlie," another voice said, with an almost comically affected Marcher accent.

Cordelia had no more time. She hoisted herself out the window and padded off down the filthy alleyway in bare feet, clinging the shadows as she did, dipping further into them to scale a building so she could see the lay of the land. These men, whoever they were, hadn't even blocked off this alley or posted another man there. They'd just planned to pick her up out of her carriage. They weren't real kidnappers, too inept, but she was glad because it had allowed her to leave with her life and body intact.

The roof she'd picked to use as a viewing perch was pitched, empty and wouldn't hide her well for very long. She had to keep moving. Looking down she saw the surrounded carriage, the noise of the men who'd finally found their friend, and dogs barking from their angry shouts.

She had to leave there fast, and make a plan. As she scrambled down, barefoot and hoping she could avoid anything that might puncture her and impede movement, she thought of her highwayman. Whatever his costume, he wouldn't have let her come to harm, and she should have invited him back with her. Together, they would have dispatched her would-be kidnappers with ease, and found out who they worked for. Now she was alone, with no answers, and only a slim hope that she could outsmart her attackers.

Maker, she'd just wanted to go to sleep, and now she couldn't go home.

#

Denerim was a changed place since the Blight. Darkspawn had crushed through walls and buildings, and those they hadn't been able to destroy by brute force were set to fire. Very few homes and businesses survived intact and nothing looked quite the way it had before the war.

That was fine with her. Cordelia hadn't been one for Denerim before the war anyway. Afterwards, she helped rebuild these streets. She knew them, knew the people, had moved rock and rubble and sifted what had once been houses to find bodies and belongings. Her brother had gone to the coronation of the new king while Cordelia was making soup to distribute to the hungry, rocking a baby on her hip because the mother was too tired and weak to care for the colicky infant anymore. Fergus went home to Highever, a home she couldn't face until much later, but she stayed, working in Denerim until Dairren had to deal with his father.

But Denerim as it was now, new streets with odd twists and dead ends where there used to be lanes and roads, it was a maze she knew well since she'd unwittingly been one of the architects. There was no chance of her getting lost in the redone maze, but she didn't know what corners hid trouble, and there were worse things in the deep pre-dawn shadows than two mercs scared to go back to their master with tales of failture.

There was a halfway house, and seeing as how she didn't have on any shoes and was covered in muck and blood, Cordelia went there. It wasn't just her circumstance that made her head in that direction, it was the approximate closeness of the house, and her familiarity with the owner. Ser Giulia, a knight who was wounded in the battle of Denerim, ran the house as a charity apart from the strings and conditions of the Chantry. Even years after the Blight, Denerim still greatly needed the help Ser Giulia provided.

Giulia had fought side by side with her in that battle. Cordelia didn't forget these things, and had made it her business to support her in running the halfway house. Many of the people it served were veterans either from the battle of Denerim or Ostagar. Sometimes her nightmares came, and they were memories and cruelties, too vivid to banish in her sleep. But Cordelia always woke up and could put them behind her. So many of the people that fought for Ferelden couldn't, not after facing the very monsters that embodied the worst of them, as taught by a lifetime of Chantry services. The Blight did more than ruin land, it broke people, and Fereldans were as scarred as the middle of the bannorn where the horde had marched.

Ser Giulia's doors were not open, but Cordelia wasn't stupid enough to approach from the front anyway. She went to the kitchen and knocked, and when that attracted no one, she picked the lock. Giulia herself was standing in the room, her bowstring drawn back as Cordelia silently entered the room.

"No further."

"Peace, Giulia, it's Cordelia." She held up both hands in surrender. A lantern was on the table and she stepped into its light, the better to illuminate her stained and dirty, but familiar face. Giulia narrowed her eyes as she looked her over. Her knighted friend was as she remembered her -- tall, angry, with light brown hair in one braid all around her head. Her face was heavily scarred on one side from an explosion.

"Cordy," Ser Giulia said, not lowering her bow. "Why did you break in? What's happened to you?"

"I knocked first," Cordelia pointed out, but then she launched into her explanation, "I was having _such_ a good night. I went to the King Alistair's masque, met the most wonderfully gentle man dressed as a highwayman, had him, and got in a carriage home, only to be snatched in some abduction plot on the way to my family house."

"You don't look abducted."

"I'm not good at following directions," Cordelia said with a shrug, making Giulia laugh, a surprisingly soft sound that faded quickly as Giulia finally lowered her bow.

"You're filthy, and I take it by the amount of blood, you fought your way out?" Giulia asked, approving.

Cordelia cocked her head to the side and looked at her friend. "I thought your arm was too mangled to pull that back?"

"I've been working on it," Giulia said, giving her a small frown. That was like a grin from Giulia, and Cordelia warmed at the sight of it.

"So I see. Yes, I fought my way out, but I was lucky. They weren't professionals, which means that they're probably still out there hunting for me in the streets near where the carriage was diverted, trying not to return to their master empty-handed. They had no orders not to harm me, because when I killed the first one they joked that he might be 'giving the rich bitch a poke'."

Giulia groaned, but said nothing, rather pointing at a bucket near the door. Cordelia took the hint and washed, hands first, then face down until she got to her filthy feet. She grimaced, gritted her teeth and stuck them into the bucket, the water already grimy from her ablutions. They were scraped, but she hadn't cut or punctured them, which was a blessing. Infection wasn't the way she wanted to go out.

"I got some armor if you need it. Leather, right?" Giulia said, and Cordelia nodded. "Looks like you have your own weapons."

"These came off the kidnapper I dispatched. I'd be obliged if you got rid of them for me."

"Sure thing," said Giulia. "I hope you have a plan."

Cordelia gave a grim smile into the darkness that was ever so slowly lifting to reveal the oncoming dawn. "Not yet, but I will, if you don't mind me sticking around during the day," she said.

"I can keep you hidden, and you can get some rest," Giulia agreed. "But you've got to get hidden soon, the morning deliveries are about to start. You're lucky it was just me down here, my cook likes to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Very lucky. Thank you, Ser Giulia," Cordelia said, but Giulia waved her off.

"Can't have anything happening to my best and most frequent donor, can I now?" she asked with a very tight smile. She wasn't one for smiling, Cordelia knew that, but took that as a sign that Giulia was actually worried for her. She patted Giulia on the arm when she came nearer after putting her bow away, but didn't thank her again.

Washed and very weary, Cordelia stood up from where she was leaning over the bucket, accepted the rough towel handed to her by Giulia and got up. Giulia opened the window and tossed the filthy wash water into the street, closing the shutters on the sound of it slapping the cobbles. The stone floor was very cold under her newly washed feet, and she hoped she wouldn't get sick on top of all her other worries. Now she needed to sleep off some of this night, and was led up through the secret passages and twisting staircases of the former merchant's estate that had been rebuilt into a home to all that needed refuge in Denerim.

Tonight she was one of them.


	4. Chapter 4

Alistair wasn't just going to sit and let her be missing, not if he could help it. He knew how important time was when it came to saving people, and there was none to waste in this case. Teagan knew more about her than he let on at first -- apparently she'd marched with him from Redcliffe to Denerim to join the final battle during the Blight -- but there was someone that knew her better.

Alistair and Teagan accepted the light tea laid out before them at Bann Dairren's Denerim home. He was there for the party, though Alistair hadn't seen him the night before, not that he would have remembered him if he did. What had happened at the fountain had surpassed anything else that happened the night before, and he remembered no details except those concerning her. 

Dairren was an attractive, pale man with a scar down one cheek and a laughably upper-crust accent. He too had fought under the Redcliffe banner at the battle of Denerim, but Teagan didn't know him as well, and only remembered him because of Lady Cordelia. They had been close during the Blight, Teagan told him. Alistair was inclined not to like Dairren from the start, but decided to be more fair when he saw the deep sorrow that surrounded the young man like shadow. His concern was Lady Peacock, and getting her safely returned to him.

"Have you seen Lady Cordelia Cousland recently?" Alistair asked.

"No, I haven't, Your Highness. I had thought to see her at your masque last night, but we must have missed each other."

"And nothing since then?"

Dairren shook his head, spreading a bemused look between Alistair and Teagan. Alistair took his teacup and drank from it, taking the time to properly spoon two heaps of sugar into it as they sat in silence. When it became clear that Alistair was no more going to tell than Dairren was going to ask, Teagan spoke up.

"Lady Cordelia has gone missing, Bann Dairren. We thought she might have come here, were she in trouble," Teagan said, explaining their visit.

"Cordy's missing?" he asked, and what seemed like genuine shock went through him, making him set down his teacup. "I uh, I haven't seen her. I thought maybe we'd see each other in Denerim, but we had no plans. That is to say, I didn't ask to see her, I just thought I might run into her at some point," Dairren said, and Alistair coughed. 

"Tell us about her," Alistair said, wishing for both more information and to keep Dairren talking they could determine whether he was telling the truth or not. He missed Leliana. She was good at knowing when people were lying and when they were holding things back. She'd tried to teach him, but he didn't have her eye for it, though he had learned some. He'd never be a bard, and as much as that seemed useful, he was already a Grey Warden and a king, he didn't need more titles to hang on himself.

"Cordelia's saved my life more times than I can count, and if she needed me, I'd be there for her. We were at her family castle in Highever together when Howe attacked, escaped, came to Redcliffe and she helped me bring justice to my father for the death of my mother." Dairren took a sip from his tea cup, then set it down, looking away from both Teagan and Alistair. His hands shook ever so slightly, making the delicate white porcelain cup rattle on the saucer as he set it aside. 

Alistair couldn't decide if Dairren was scared or worried, though it was likely a combination of both he realized as Dairren went on, "We had a relationship, as you must know, but she was never, well, that is, I'm married to someone else now. I have a child on the way."

"What happened between the two of you?" Teagan asked, far more gently than Alistair would have.

Dairren gave them a sad smile, one redolent with memories that Alistair was sure he wasn't going to share with anyone. "She was like smoke and thunder at the end of the war, do you remember her Bann Teagan? We both marched under your banner. Cordelia was incredible. Did you ever hear the story about her in the tree with the darkspawn?"

Teagan chuckled as Alistair took another tiny cake, cramming it into his mouth all in one bite as he listened. "Many times. It was almost legend by the time we made it to Denerim."

"It was true, I was there. But I couldn't fight anymore. After the darkspawn, I haven't, that is to say it was a difficult battle." He shuddered, remembering. "They were so awful, so monstrous. They never stopped coming, never retreated until the horde was broken. I still have nightmares. Cordelia had none, no doubts, and I think by the end she liked fighting, the feeling of doing, when all I wanted was to be home with my books. I was never meant to be a warrior."

Dairren was quiet for a moment before going on, not looking at either Teagan or Alistair. "After I had to face my father, and she was still with me, even when I couldn't, well it doesn't matter. I just knew, then. I said something, a lie, to make her leave. But it wasn't true, I love her still, how could I not? She just, just deserved more than me. I feel like a fool, but I would do anything for her. I'd never turn her away, never harm her. You have to believe me."

"Wait," Alistair said, holding up a hand, confused. "What do you mean you made her leave?"

"Your Highness, there's a reason why I was meant to be her father's second, a glorified squire, and she was meant to be his successor. The gulf between us was too great, and now, I feel like I am half the person I was before the Blight began. Cordelia became more than she was before, a soldier and a hero."

"Do you know who might have wanted to hurt her?" Alistair asked quickly, diverting the conversation away from Dairren's obvious shame.

"No, not at all. She's more than capable of saving herself, and if you didn't find her, then a lot of other people are going to turn up dead soon," Dairren said. He was still sad, frowning, but there was some triumph in it, as if he was proud to know her that well.

"What about the Couslands?" Teagan asked. "Have you heard of anyone still bearing a grudge against her parents? Maybe her brother, the teyrn?"

Dairren shook his head. "No one would dare say it in my hearing. I am sorry I cannot be of more help, Your Highness, Bann Teagan. I wish no harm to come to Cordelia. If I can help in any way," he said, trailing off. Teagan shook his head.

"Other than telling us if you see her, there's little more to do. Let her know that we wish to help, if she needs it," Teagan said.

"And it should go without saying," Alistair began in his best authoritative voice, "that you should keep the reason for this visit to yourself."

"I will," Bann Dairren said, standing up with both of them. He bowed them out and Alistair went, scowling at Teagan's back as they left the cozy receiving room of the small city estate. Alistair was armed but wearing his kingly robes instead of real armor, and his fine boots had hard soles that clattered against the stone of Dairren's floors. "Your Highness?" Dairren called, and Alistair pivoted on one heel to face him.

"She likes orange roses, blackcurrant tea, and adventure stories best. I thought you might want to know."

Alistair gave a curt nod and turned back towards Teagan and the exit. Once they were safely in the carriage, he knocked upon the ceiling and they went back towards the palace. Alistair sat thinking, his brow furrowed as he did. "I don't like him," Alistair declared, earning an unexpected laugh from Teagan.

"I wouldn't like him either in your position, feeling the way you do about the Lady Cordelia. But he wasn't wrong in his assessment of himself, Your Highness. And I think he bears too much weight for the sins of others."

"What do you mean?" Alistair asked, getting into the carriage.

"He's not a happy man. We should let him have his quiet life. I think that's also the conclusion Lady Cordelia must have arrived at as well. Her presence would upset his life, so I don't think she'd come here unless she had no other choice."

"Then we'll search street by street, house by house if we have to. I want her found, Teagan, before it's too late," Alistair reiterated, looking out the window. Mounted riders were on either side of them, blocking most of his view from the window. He didn't get what Teagan meant about Dairren, but he knew regret when he heard it. Dairren seemed to be a man full of them, and they all were tied to the elusive Lady Cordelia.

#

This plan was going to get all of them sent straight to the Void.

"It's a good plan," Ser Giulia told her, which made Cordelia think that it really, really wasn't. 

"If we're going to do it, let's get it done then," Cordelia responded wearily. She was still tired from running and fucking the night before. A few hours of sleep at the house had helped, but she was mostly dirty, had no answers and allies were in short supply.

The war had eliminated many of the people Cordelia knew growing up. Family trees had been pruned mercilessly, either by the Blight or opportunistic treachery, in the way that had nearly toppled her house. The face of Ferelden's nobility was changing, the Wardens held Amaranthine and had killed several conspirators of Rendon Howe's there after the way. The Hero of Ferelden held Gwaren, but the way it was told, the people there had an elected council that reported back to their teyrn.

However the changes had come about, it meant that Cordelia was no longer certain who lay where. The Guerrin family, always prominent because of Queen Rowan and their loyal subjects in Redcliffe, certainly had their share of power now after their service in the war, and their ability to put King Alistair on the throne. Ailing Eamon had retreated back to Redcliffe to rebuild and send his only child to the Circle, but Teagan remained at Alistair's side. She'd fought under Teagan in the war -- Cordelia had reasoned that if there was no Highever to go back to because of the Blight, it didn't matter if the last of the Couslands died. But she hadn't died or been the last, and however small her part in it, she'd helped stop the Blight under Teagan's command.

So that was where she was going when she stepped out of Giulia's halfway house, after a meeting with a Revered Mother and a plan that made her feel like the Maker might strike her down, or at the very least, send a little lightning her way. She wasn't fervently Andrastian, though she had attended the services at the palace by Mother Mallol when she was younger. This plan, however, had her wishing she'd paid more attention during those quiet hours. Despite her reservations, she knew how to play a part, and soon found herself at the Royal Palace for a second time in the past day.

In daylight, the palace was impressive. It stood even after the darkspawn tried to take Denerim. The walls were sturdy and high, the banner of King Alistair was visible hanging from a window in the center of the edifice. If she'd had a moment, Cordelia might have stood there and looked at it, wondering about the man it represented. But she didn't have the luxury to waste time, and she moved towards the entrance where she'd been told to go, a ways away from the main gate.

"By the Light of Andraste and the Maker, I bear a message of the Sunburst Throne for the King of Ferelden," Cordelia said solemnly from behind her black masked hood, one that obscured everything save for her eyes. The words were part of a ritual that she'd just learned.

The guard led her in after checking the seal on her documents. Cordelia had only to stand by and let him do so, remaining stoic and unknowable in her disguise. So far so good. If she was led either to the King or Bann Teagan, this would work out the way they'd planned. The Revered Mother that had come to help at Giulia's request had told her that it was usually Teagan, not the king that got the missives, but sometimes Alistair or Eamon did as well. Any of them would work.

The luck of some deity or demon was with her that day, and when the guard announced her as a messenger of the Sunburst with a bull for the king, she was shown into Bann Teagan's large and lavish palace study. The man himself sat behind his desk, looking up in surprise when Cordelia and the guard entered the room.

"Has Her Perfection sent us another notice already, or is this from Her Grace?" he asked, but in answer Cordelia only held out her satchel, the one that held the sealed missives in it. They were closed by the official lead seal of Her Grace the Grand Cleric of Denerim. They'd borrowed it.

Teagan took the letters and opened the first, looking over the shorter of the two first. That was fine, it was the one that was signed by both Ser Giulia and Her Reverence. Cordelia watched, sweating as she stood in place, waiting for him to get to the second letter. He read the first one twice, eyebrows raising nearly into his hairline on his second read through.

"You are dismissed, Jonas," he said softly. "Wait outside." 

The guard that had accompanied her didn't say anything, but saluted and left them alone in the room with precision. There had been instructions in the letter to dismiss anyone in the room with him and the messenger, and a promise that no harm would come to him on the blood of the Maker. Teagan eyed her, but when she didn't move, took out the second letter.

Finally, as a trickle of unwanted sweat started to make the skin between her shoulder blades itch, he opened the second letter. That one was hers, and as he read it, she took off her hood and mask. She shook out her hair, her filthy, tangled hair and let it fall wild and free past her shoulders. When Teagan looked up at her, eyes darting from the parchment to her face, Cordelia smiled at him. He blinked his surprise at her, but she saw his lips twitch as if he were holding back laughter.

"Sorry for the deception, my lord. I just wasn't sure how else to get into the castle without whoever helped my kidnappers last night noticing."

"My lady, you have no idea how good it is to see you well," he said, bowing to her. 

"Stop that, Bann Teagan," she said without rancor, and took a seat, one that was out of view of the door and window. "I need help."

"I am prepared to do whatever is needed, but much has happened since we spoke last night," Teagan said, turning to her.

"Yes, it has. I killed a man, some amateur sent after me with two other mercs to try to take me captive. I know not what happened to the others, I escaped after taking care of the first one. They didn't even have all the alley exits covered. My driver abandoned the carriage after seeing me down a circuitous route away from the palace. Maker, I'm about falling asleep now," she yawned. "Forgive me, my lord. I haven't slept much, so I'll keep it brief. I promised Giulia that this uniform would be returned, but I can't go home and send it to her. Oh, and I met the most wonderful knight, smelled like lime and mint, and we traded favors at the party. I think that about sums everything up."

"We need to speak about all of that," Teagan said in a low, urgent voice, but was interrupted by the door slamming open. Instinct told Cordelia to hide, so she did and was in the furthest corner behind a screen before whoever burst into the room might have seen her.


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair wasn't sure what else he could do to help find Lady Cordelia, but he had been trying all morning. The guards went out all around the city, and there was an investigation into who in the castle might have been involved. Her carriage, the one he'd gotten for her, was found abandoned in an alley, the dead body of a man inside of it with his throat slit. He assumed that was her work, and since no sign of her had been found save for her shoes and the golden mask, she was still out there. No one in the surrounding area had seen anything, of course, but one man reported hearing shouting and noise like footsteps on his roof. He didn't think it could have been anyone on the roof however, because it had steep gables, but Alistair wasn't counting anything out.

They were running out of time, and Alistair was livid at the lack of progress of the entire Royal Guard that he had looking for her. She'd disappeared from his event, so he was responsible for finding her, but damn it, he wanted to find her because he'd inadvertently helped her kidnappers take her. Sex-addled and tired, he'd neglected his responsibility for the sake of anonymity. He should have made his own carriage take her home, damn the secret identity and playacting in masks.

He owned his responsibility for his part, and it was making him completely cranky.

When Alistair stomped towards Teagan's office, the servants melted away into shadows, busying themselves with work as their king scowled past. A guard that wasn't normally outside with the other guards shot to attention as he passed, and he pushed the door open without knocking. He barely heard them paying their respects as he let the door bang against the wall, the boom matching his temper.

"The guards have just reported in Teagan, and we must have a traitor. All we could find was her blasted shoes," he said, angrily.

"King Alistair," Teagan started, looking a little strained at his outburst, though damned if Alistair knew why. He'd done far worse than a some shouting in this study before.

"You found my shoes, Ser Highwayman?" a voice asked, and he turned too quickly, righted himself before he tripped over his own feet and saw her.

She was dressed in the full black and red of a Sunburst messenger, and he didn't really recognize her face, but her voice and the shape of her lips were unmistakable. He'd just kissed those lips, many times the night before. Before he could stop himself, Alistair was across the room and taking her hand in his, raising it to his lips.

"Lady Peacock, you found your way back safely. From what I've heard of you, I'm not surprised." He met her eyes and didn't look away, watching hers go from astonished to merry in a few blinks.

"Well I am, Your Highness! Your hair is darker than your official portrait and you seem younger than I thought, well, you're just younger and cuter. I never would have guessed it was you," she laughed the last few words out and pulled him into a kiss.

Maybe it was because of Dairren's words, but he could taste the smoke and war in her now, the utter conviction that kept her surviving when others might have died. Alistair tasted her dry lips and pushed his tongue in, emboldened by the fact that he'd done so much more with her just the night before. Unlike last night, now she felt hungrier too, her kiss searching and searing at the same time, warm and passionate enough to make his knees quake with it. Behind them Teagan cleared his throat, but Alistair was of no mind to rush through this reunion. He held up a hand and then brought it back to her, losing it in her tangled mass of hair, bringing her closer.

"Forgive my forwardness, Your Highness," she said when they broke apart, but they were both smiling at each other, and he waved her words away.

"What happened?" he asked, anxiously. "How is it that you're here?"

"I'm not actually a Sunburst throne messenger," she said, laughing again. Alistair laughed too, though it was more out of sheer relief than actual amusement.

"We were looking for you, I have all of the guards I could spare helping the city guard," he told her, and realized she was still in his arms. He held onto her hand, but gave her space as she answered him.

"By the time anyone found my carriage, I was already in hiding."

"I'm so glad you're safe," he said, but she shook her head.

"Not safe, not yet. That's why I'm here. I need help and I have no idea who could be behind this. Someone that wasn't concerned with keeping me pristine, I can say that," she said, and looked over his shoulder to lock eyes with Teagan for a scant moment before going on. "But before we get to that, I have to figure out where to go next. You were right, when you came in and said you had a traitor. There's someone here that defied their orders to make sure I was in a carriage that wouldn't take me home, so I'm not safe here."

"You will be," Alistair said, and meant it. "I will make sure of it."

"And a nap," Lady Cordelia said, yawning. "Maybe a sandwich too."

Teagan cleared his throat again but this time they both turned to look at him. "We can't let you go, my lady, but we neither can we alert your enemies that you have returned here."

"Wait, what about my household? I won't have them killed or tortured while I sit here," she started, but Alistair squeezed the hand he was still holding, unconsciously pulling her wrist. "Ow," she said and looked at him.

"Right, the bandage, sorry," he said, giving her a sheepish grin. "But the Royal Guard is protecting them now, and probably going through your things for clues. I'm sorry about that."

"I believe I have a plan," Teagan said, "but I hope you like palace visits, Lady Cordelia, because you're not going to be able to leave for at least a few days."

"Then how am I supposed to find out who wanted to kidnap me?" she asked, turning an angry face to Teagan.

Alistair leaned over and kissed her again, just on the cheek and her scowl melted into a smile. They were still holding hands, and Teagan was giving them an oddly smug look. "How do you like the idea of joining the Royal Guard, my lady?" Teagan asked, and Cordelia's warm chuckle made Alistair's chest fill with something that felt like sunlight.

Lady Peacock had found her way back to him, despite her tumultuous night. Alistair couldn't stop smiling.

#

A lot of changing of clothes ensued in Teagan's study. First they had to get her out of there without anyone noticing, and she had to get the messenger's outfit and satchel back to Ser Giulia. That was easy enough -- two Royal Guards were called, one about her size, and she and the guard traded armor and clothes so the guard could return to Giulia. The second guard went with her, carrying a spare set of leather armor. She had to be seen leaving the palace.

After that Cordelia, dressed as a guard, would leave the study, make her way to the private apartments and finally get a nap and a bath. Teagan wanted to give her a guest room, but it was too risky for anyone to know she was staying there until they figured out who they were up against, or at least, how to take them on.

She was staying with King Alistair. She hadn't been in mind to only sleep with him when she'd suggested it, thinking of the practicality of the arrangement, but Cordelia couldn't deny that she wanted to have sex with him again if the occasion arose. Luckily, when she brought it up, King Alistair readily agreed. They needed to talk and she needed to hide, but mostly, they both wanted to be alone together again.

The attraction between them that started at the hedge maze and led to a cautious man leading her to a secluded fountain for a tryst sparked more fervently between them now than it had the night before. It was to the point when Teagan bowed them out of the room, he was giving both her and Alistair indulgent looks that reminded her far too much of the way her father had once looked at Fergus and Oriana. Maker, she missed Oriana and her nephew Oren, but Cordelia let her sadness pass over and through her, letting it go in favor of retaining her sense of urgency and secrecy.

When she got to Alistair's room, safe and sound, she took off the armor and it was set aside to await its owner. The king had a full schedule that day, one that her kidnapping and subsequent visit had disrupted, but he never let it show while he attended her. The king, wary of too many people knowing that it was not just him that would be residing in his chambers, selected one maid, an ancient woman named Jion, and swore her to secrecy. Jion had the pinched lipped mean look of a woman that spat her words rather than spoke them, but she was fond of her king.

Cordelia could tell by her eyes that she was less fond of the woman that would be sleeping in his bed, but Alistair needn't explain himself to her. Jion procured her clothes and underthings, brought more towels and a cake of soap for her, and Alistair himself set out for hot water for her bath. She unwound the bandage that he'd wrapped her wrist in last night to help immobilize it. It was stained with her sweat and dirt, and a little blood, but still sturdily intact. She hesitated over it, unsure what to do with the bandage itself but feeling a strange urge to keep it. The stool where she would put her things had nothing on it yet, her borrowed armor would be returned and her underclothes she still wore, but she dropped the bandage on there, unsure if she'd remember to keep it.

"I brought you this too," he said, not even breathing hard after hauling up enough hot water for her bath. If people thought it was strange that he was taking a bath in the middle of the day or fetching his own water, no one mentioned it by word or deed. King Alistair held out a comb for her, a rather lovely one, made of ivory with wide, thick teeth.

"Oh, thank you. This is just what I need," Cordelia said, smiling at him. She started to comb through her hair, trying to avoid tangles once it got wet. "Are you going to stay for my bath?" she asked, letting her smile slide into a more suggestive expression.

"I um, well, I can't just leave," he said and gave a small laugh as a blush crept up his cheek. "They think it's my bath. But I'm going over there," he motioned with his thumb over his shoulder, "in the other room so you have have privacy."

"You can come back once I'm in the water," she said swiftly. "We need to speak, and I honestly don't want to be alone after last night. The kidnapping attempt, not meeting you," she clarified.

She hadn't wanted to be alone at Giulia's halfway house either, but she'd been so sleepy there that it hadn't mattered much. Now, with some of her strength restored to her though rest, care and the food she knew would be laid out for in Alistair's rooms for her to eat after her bath, she was starting to fall apart now that she was safe enough to do so.

He agreed and left the room, and before she even got into the bath she heard his servants arriving with his late luncheon. Apparently the king ate a great deal, because no one commenting on his ordering an entire extra meal, and she heard Alistair's happy exclamations upon being told that the kitchen had 'slipped in some extra favorites for His Highness'. Cordelia smiled even as she turned away from his sincere thanks, muffled as it came through the wall. She slipped into the water, careful not to even sigh and make noise as the hot water closed over her tired body.

It was just the random and odd luck that governed her life that she'd happened to have sex with a boyish, sweet king in disguise at the party last night. Maker help her, she didn't want this man, her Ser Highwayman and king, to get hurt because of her. She let her head sink underwater, blocking out all sound as she closed her eyes and held her breath.

#

When he came back into his bedroom, she wasn't in the tub. Alistair just moved to look behind his dressing screen, concerned when she hadn't answered his whispered hello when she surfaced from the water. She was like a mermaid, all heavy, waterlogged black hair plastered to the sides of her face and in front of it, the only sound besides the whoosh of water when she came up was her deep and steady breathing.

"Maker's breath!" he swore, unable to stop himself. She giggled softly at his exclamation, and Alistair smiled at her despite his rapid heartbeat. He turned to look at her and then looked away at once.

Somehow he'd forgotten she'd be naked in the bath, and her wet, shining skin almost made him want to take off his clothes and join her in the hot water. He had to get himself under control, and he discreetly pinched himself, hoping to kill off the beginning of his erection. It didn't quite work to do much more than annoy him.

"This water is heavenly," she sighed happily. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her more resting than splashing, the clear water calming around her. He looked away again.

"I live to serve, my lady," he said, making her give a girlish giggle.

"Can I call you Alistair?" she asked, as he stood momentarily right next to her, but determinedly not looking in her direction.

"Of course. What else would you call me?"

"Your Highness. King Alistair. Any number of titles that aren't just your plain Andrastian name. I thought I'd ask that before pointing out how silly it is to turn away from my nudity," Cordelia said pointedly. "You can call me Cordy," she added.

"I'm not being silly," he started, but realized he was a little and went to sit on his bed. There he could see her, but he wasn't able to look down into the water contained in the high walled white marble bath. His bath, that he wasn't used to seeing other people, especially beautiful women using. "I just didn't want to, you know, invade your privacy. We've been together, sure, but neither of us were naked then. We were wearing masks."

"That's fair. I was thinking about how strange it was that a soldier was so unused to nudity," she said, and he smelled the scent of his soap as she began to lather. He fixed his mind elsewhere while he answered. It landed on Zevran, mother naked, bathing happily at a lake so clear and clean that it was like glass. He'd been embarrassed at the time about seeing Zevran so easy in his skin, but they'd just met, and Zevran was covered in tattoos and scars, more beautiful than any man had a right to be.

"It isn't that. I've seen a naked qunari running after a dog, Maker's breath you should never... Anyway, I mean to say that if you want me to see you, I wouldn't mind, but it shouldn't be because we're in forced close quarters and I'm ogling you."

"Oh," she said, and looked over at him. Their gazes met for a second before he turned away again. "You're very sweet, Alistair."

He flopped back on the bed dramatically and said to his ceiling, "Always sweet. Never handsome and manly."

She laughed and he felt water land on him as she flicked it from her bath. "Very handsome and awesomely manly. Trust me, I know from experience," she said and laughed again, the infectious sound of it widening the near permanent grin he'd been wearing since she'd come to stay in his room. "Why did you sleep with me?"

"Because you were a very pretty peacock," he answered quickly, earning another of her tinkling laughs. In truth, he'd been expecting this question, so he answered honestly. "You offered me a kiss, and I just, I wasn't expecting it, but I wanted it. You didn't know who I was. It felt like everyone in the ballroom knew, but you didn't know or care at that moment. I'd done you a favor, so you offered me one, and you were wearing that dress, and," he laughed trailing off. "I liked your smile."

There were a million more things he could say, and maybe one day he'd admit them to her. He liked her smile, he was so lonely and empty that night, because even though she was here it was hard to believe they'd actually done what they did. He had a lover, one that meant more than a single night. Despite what he'd felt at the party, he wasn't really a one night kind of man, and he'd regretted not taking her up to his room that night, but it was one of the best nights of his life. She'd given him that, freely, without reservation, and that made him feel things. But for now, that he liked her smile would have to suffice.

"Yours is nice too," she said softly, and before he could sit up and look at her properly, he heard her duck back into the water. It hadn't occurred to him that she might be shy too until she hid her face, despite the fact that he couldn't see it from where he lay, and he grinned up at the ceiling. When she surfaced again, she spoke. "It was good to meet you, and that you're you, do you know what I mean?"

"So," she said quickly, changing the subject, "I have no idea who wants to kidnap me. I didn't find anything on the merc I killed in the alley, and half the nobility in Ferelden I knew before the Blight is dead now. If you have any suggestions, I wouldn't mind hearing them."

"You're going to stay here," he said firmly, sitting up. "With me." He wasn't expecting her to get up at his words, but he heard her pull the plug to the bath and the sound of the water draining out. Out of the corner of his eye he saw movement as she moved behind the dressing screen. She dried herself, and then slipped on the clothes that had been left for her.

"No," she said, holding out a dress in protest. It was rough, homespun, and dyed an unfortunate shade of yellow brown that looked vaguely reminiscent of a stain on the bottom of a chamber pot. "If they come to get your laundry and see this in it right away, they'll know something's up. Do you have a plain shirt I can borrow? If I'm wearing your clothes, it will hide me that much longer. I'd prefer leather armor for when I need to be dressed."

He came over and took the rather large dress that had been provided for her from her outstretched hand, and then went to search for something for her to wear. He brought her back a plain lawn shirt with minimal embroidery on it. It was as fine as his other clothes, but he didn't own anything from before the Blight, and after they'd made him all new things. Alistair handed it to her and sat back on the bed. Satisfied, Cordelia came from around the screen wearing it, her long legs on display. She sat on the bed near him and tucked her legs up underneath her and out of sight. Her hands were busy finishing the braid she'd bound her wet hair into, one long braid that would trail down her back in a neat black line when it dried.

"Do they think you're sick or something?" she asked, but Alistair laughed.

"I don't get sick. It's a Grey Warden thing. They, uh," he laughed nervously and added quickly, "they think I'm in here sulking. I do that sometimes and, well, I was upset earlier because of the news about you, actually. Once they hear you, and oh, they will hear you or figure out that someone else is in here eventually, they'll think Teagan sent someone to cheer me up."

Neither of them spoke for a while after that. She looked at him curiously, and Alistair tried to pretend he didn't notice her scrutiny. Cordelia reached a hand out to him, cupping his face. He closed his eyes, and tried to breathe steadily as she did. When she let him go, he felt her get up.

"I should eat," she said, and then yawned. "And then get to bed. Are you staying here or should I be on my guard to listen for the door?"

"I'll stay," Alistair said quickly. "I have about a hundred reports to read in the other room, and Callie should be back soon. My dog, Calenhad," he clarified at her bemused look. "He trains with the guards."

"Good," she said softly, and her heard a slight tremor in her voice. "I'll sleep easier with you here."

He reached out and took her hand, sensing that she wasn't really as steady as she was pretending to be. It couldn't have been easy, a night like she'd had and just now, the middle of the next afternoon being able to eat and rest. She was scared, and he wanted to be a comfort, if he could. She sounded like she wanted him to be one too. It was the least he could do after everything. Her warm fingers closed around his, and Alistair felt his heartbeat speed in response to her gentle touch.

"They brought me a cheese plate to cheer me up. I'll share it with you," he said, giving her a sidelong smile. It had the effect he'd hoped and she laughed again, gripping his hand more firmly as she did.


	6. Chapter 6

Their late lunch was a short affair, with Cordelia nearly falling asleep once she started eating. His dog had been let into his quarters just as they were starting to eat, but he'd been let in by a guard who only opened the door, and the mabari wandered in on his own. The dog Calenhad sniffed her, interested for only a moment, then went to settle next to his master and eat whatever Alistair offered him.

Once she was tucked up in bed, freshly washed and fed, Cordelia started to cry. It was frustration, and the fear she was so good at tamping down so far she could pretend it didn't exist, until it did. Quiet was always like this for her since her parents had been killed. King Alistair's sheets smelled like lavender, like comfort and home, but she wasn't home, and Highever felt so far away. Part of her felt like she could never go home again, like that wasn't a word that belonged to her broken and tired heart anymore. But Highever was always there, and her brother Fergus always wanted her to be around the castle. Would she even make it there again or would some fool snatch her off the road and end her scant twenty-one years of life?

Her tears were short-lived, but all the fiercer for it. Even at the worst of times, she wasn't much of a crier, but they'd needed to come out. There was so much fear and frustration and just plain exhaustion that crying was probably the only thing she could have done since she hadn't fallen asleep as soon as she hit the sheets. Maker, she hoped Alistair hadn't heard her. If he had, he didn't come to her, which both disappointed and relieved her. Eventually, Callie came in to lay with her, all hot dog skin and smelling like grass and dirt and she pulled the dog to her, comforted by his bulk.

"I have a mabari too, you know. His name is Leopold," she muttered into his neck. "I miss him terribly." And that was all she remembered before falling into a deep sleep.

"Cordy," Alistair said. She could hear him as if he were part of her dream, and she rolled sleepily towards the sound of his voice.

"Mwrrump," she mumbled, and let herself slide back into the warm grip of sleep. Faintly, she heard Alistair chuckle.

"Lady Cordelia," he tried again, and shook her. "Dinner is here. You didn't eat much earlier, and it's too much food for just me. No, that's a lie." Calenhad was gone from her side and Alistair had one knee on the mattress as he leaned down, trying to shake her awake. She made an ungainly roll into the depression his bulk made and opened her eyes just a slit.

She came to complete wakefulness with laughter on her lips as his face came into view. Cordelia reached a hand out and grabbed onto the closet part of him, trying to pull him closer. "Get into bed," she said.

"But there's food," he argued, but there was no heat in it. He accepted the summons of her arms and rolled onto the bed with her. For all his heaviness, he was gentle as he came to rest on the mattress with her. "We never talked about doing this again."

"Kiss me," she said, and he obliged, but it was far more chaste and sedate that she would have liked. She rolled onto him and sat up, squashing him beneath her as she forced her way out from the light sheet she'd slept under. He was all muscle, unyielding, but he grunted as she pushed herself up on him. 

Realizing she was thirsty, she drank deeply from the glass of water on the nightstand that she'd brought after lunch. Alistair lay on the bed, slightly underneath her, watching. When she was done, she lay down again and kissed him properly, the way they'd kissed in Teagan's study. Alistair was all tongue this time, unpracticed but unhurried as they lay in the darkened room together. Outside, twilight had not quite fully descended, though it was late, the summer day stretched on, only dimming at the edges. Only the curtains had dulled the light of the afternoon she'd slept through. Cordelia paid the slowly vanishing light no mind at all as she gently teased Alistair, pressing herself up against him, turning his slow, easy kiss into something more heated.

"I want you," she muttered, making her point clear. "And we're already in bed."

"I want you too," he said, and now he kissed her, determined and urgent. "Should I get my belt from last night?"

"You want to wear it?" she started to ask, and then comprehension dawned. "Oh, right, you mean your sheath's still in your belt. I suppose you must, you being king and all and we aren't married."

"I run no risk of giving you anything and very little of getting you with child," Alistair explained gently. "Grey Warden. But I will use it if it makes you comfortable."

"Are you always so frank with your lovers?" she asked, sitting upright. She shook her head, and made to apologize for her tone. "I appreciate it, however I must sound now."

"I don't have lovers generally speaking, but I wanted to be up front. You won't have to worry about my bastards or anything far less pleasant."

She wanted to ask how he'd been king for nearly two years now and hadn't had lovers, but she knew not to draw this conversation out too far. She would lose the momentum they'd just gained, and he would seek out his dinner. Instead Cordelia leaned in to kiss him again, taking his face in both of her hands. "I don't need it if you don't. I similarly don't have lovers, save for Dairren and we've been apart ever since the Blight ended. Before you and I in the garden, there was no one."

Alistair responded to her with another ardent, sloppy kiss and she pushed him back to the place where he'd just been laying. It was quick this time too, but unlike the first time it wasn't because of clandestine necessity, but because both of them were eager to try it again together. Between Alistair and Cordelia lay an attraction that only grew deeper as they spent time together, a glittering thread between them quickly being spun into rope.

She was naked in record time and he was quick about shedding his clothes, pushing them off with hasty movements so he could take her in his arms, and Cordelia relished the feeling of her skin on his. He was soft, with rough hands and a litany of old scars that outlined stories of his life she had yet to hear. Cordy decided then she wanted to hear all of them, but the thought was driven from her mind as Alistair caught a nipple in his mouth and sucked hard enough to make her gasp.

The tingling, heated sensation sparked from it sent desire surging through her, and soon she was moaning and pulling at him, at once drawing him closer so she could touch him and wanting to focus on the way he was making her feel. For all his hesitation the night before, Maker had it only been one night? He was confident in this, and his hands swept over the expanse of her belly as he moved to kiss her other breast. Cordelia slipped a finger inside of herself, and he whispered in her neck and he kissed it, "Can't wait?"

"I want you so much, Alistair," she answered. She was truthful, but she'd wanted to say his name, past experience had taught her it had an aphrodisiac effect on men, and so it did with him. His finger replaced the motion of hers, and soon he was settling himself between her legs and she eagerly opening them for him.

Sex with the king, again, she thought to herself as he pressed inside, groaning at the electric heat of her. Her hands, never idle, ran up and down his back and sides, and Alistair applied himself to kissing her neck as thrust inside of her. Each thrust heralded a new conjoined cry from them, exquisite as they tumbled too quickly towards a fumbling end. She came, it was never hard for her to do so, and her own hand was busy between them as Alistair found his quick pace, and her sudden shudder was like a mirror shattering. She felt it go through Alistair, secondary shockwaves as she arced up from the bed against his heavy bulk. Alistair found his end in the moment after hers, and he moaned his climax, trying to keep it quiet and failing desperately.

In the moments after they lay together in bed, naked and atop the sheets, Cordelia held her hand out to him. Alistair took it in his, curling his fingers around hers, still staring up at the ceiling.

#

Alistair wasn't given to recklessness at all, but as he took dinner with Cordelia Cousland, he felt like risking everything he had to find who wanted to hurt her and hold them completely accountable. It wasn't because Cordelia was warming his bed that he felt this way, but rather because she wanted him before any of this happened, even if that had been less than a day before.

Dinner had been brought in right before he'd tried to wake her, and it was rapidly approaching room temperature after waiting on the two of them to finish in bed. The days were growing warmer, so the food was a mix of foods best warm and those better cold. The palace kitchens weren't the most inspired, but they did make their own specialities very well. He wanted to hire a pastry chef, a prospect that loomed in the back of his mind and came out whenever he had to eat yet another scone at a tea time event, but Alistair never quite got around to it.

She sat down with him, the two of them redressed and joined by Callie for dinner. The dog had been napping, giving them their space as it were, and only woke when Alistair took off the covers of the food that the dog had been polite enough to leave on. His dog was accomplished at much, but he was never silent when he stole food. They'd had several talks about it, and how it was polite to wait. His dog was one of the few people in Ferelden that never bothered to listen to him.

Alistair watched her unabashedly as she sat with him, draped once more in his spare shirt. With her messy hair and the warm glow of her complexion, she looked the image of contentment. Her hair had come free of her braid in her sleep and their coupling, and she unbraided the last bit so it hung down in a dark, rippling wave. She languidly started in on her food, the grilled fish that sat in large amounts before them both, making an appreciative sound as she took her first bite. Beside it sat a steak pie, if he was to judge by the smell. There was bread, lots of bread, it was mainly what he ate, and vegetables, both cooked and in a salad. He poured her some ale into a tankard that he'd purposefully kept behind after lunch so he'd have two cups for dinner.

"You're not like King Cailan," she declared, taking another bite of her fish. The statement itself was made in a careful tone, but there was something about her that made him think she meant it as a compliment.

"Thank you?"

"I didn't know him well," she went on, ignoring his remark, "but we went fishing together once when I was young and I feel like I got a good measure of him. He was almost so charming you'd forget how stupid he was, but then he'd go and remind you. You don't seem stupid at all, even though you try to act like it."

"The compliments, my lady, you'll make my head swell," he said drily, making her laugh.

"King Cailan seemed more like King Vanderin Theirin than his father, though I only know that from history books. You know my great-great-great-grandfather died defending Vanderin. Fergus carries his shield. I probably know more of your father's side than you do, if you ever need a question answered honestly."

"So," he said, chewing on that last statement as well as his piece of pie. "You're a royal historian?" he asked carefully.

"No, not at all. I just had to learn it. We learned a lot of Cousland history growing up and it's intertwined with the history of Ferelden. We were banns two ages before Ferelden had kings, and we preceded Dane down the mountains, though we supposedly mixed with his line later," she informed him. "Some of my ancestors were tyrants, tricksters, whores and saviors. It's fascinating reading." She chewed thoughtfully, and the three of the lapsed into silence.

He let his mind wander, thinking of all the updates he'd missed while he was guarding Cordelia as she napped in his bed. Teagan had come by once, but there was no news or clues to point them to who may have kidnapped Cordelia. That was frustrating to know, and to have nothing to tell her when she woke up. Some part of him wanted to have this all wrapped up as soon as possible to give her a chance to actually rest. Selfish motivations made him want to be part of that time, an unhurried chance to get to know her better. Alistair frowned as he chewed, swallowed and then broke the silence with his primary thought.

"My guards are still searching for your abductors," Alistair said. "I think they'll be out tonight, looking for you again. One night won't have convinced them that you've gone to ground, but if we're looking too, no one will realize you're here with me."

"We hope," she said, giving the door a glance. 

"I want to keep you safe, not just near me for my own interests," Alistair said, leaning in towards her. She kissed him, head darting out quickly like a snake striking, but the result was much more pleasant than a bite. He caught her face in one hand and kissed her back, relishing the smile his kiss drew from her as he sat back in his seat. "But I do like you a great deal." He looked away and laughed suddenly aware that her blasé attitude about status was something only someone who'd been high and brought low could manage. "You're honest, resourceful and didn't care that I was king."

"Why should I?" she asked. "I'm nearly as royal as you are by blood, and that wasn't about to save my life when I had to fight. We're both just two people trying to make the best of their circumstances."

"They bow to me here, not just because I'm king but because I'm a Warden. People cry on me in the streets, shouting out blessings. They make me food, send me gifts. They name their sons Alistair," he trailed off, unsure of how to convey the feeling. Instead he ran a hand through his hair and looked at her. "I don't know what to make of it sometimes. I was nobody before. A templar trainee that was denied the chance to become a full knight because I kept getting bored at the Chantry and making trouble."

"You were a templar, I'd forgotten. I thought so last night when we were in the garden. You kiss like a templar."

"You've kissed many templars have you?" he asked, leering at her. She laughed at him, as he'd intended.

"Just a few. But Alistair, has it occurred to you that you've earned this goodwill and adoration? You fought when there was so great of a chance that you'd die that it must have seemed futile, and still you went on. You give people much to admire, because faced with the same circumstances, most people wouldn't have made your choices."

"It was the Warden," he started, but she cut him off.

"It's always a team effort. I'm only here because my mother bought my life with her own. Dairren survives because my dog Leopold knocked him back and was crippled by the arrow meant to kill him. Leo is at my house by the way, but don't be surprised if he shows up here. He's a purebred mabari with grey on the muzzle and a limp." Cordelia sighed, patted Callie on the head and went on, her eyes glazing as she spoke from memory. "I dragged Dairren from the castle while so many Highever knights and my own parents died for us. He was injured and I had no idea where to go. Eventually we ran onto the farmland between Highever and Amaranthine, and found Bann Eddlebrek, who sheltered us until Dairren was recovered enough to go south." 

"I'm sorry," Alistair muttered, his voice deep and rumbling.

"I'm not. It will always be a tragedy that people as good as my parents died so violently and suddenly, but I'm still alive, and Ferelden was saved." She sounded so sure, so resolute that Alistair could answer her with no less.

"Together, we'll find out who's trying to hurt you and your family. I promise," he said.

"Seal your word by tupping me again tonight and I might believe you, Your Highness."

He gave a surprised, sputtering cough at her words, making her cackle with laughter. "We should start with paper. I was thinking before I fell asleep and you were reading your reports, that there has to be a reason someone wants me, and it's usually money. So who would look at my house, exploited by Howe, nearly broke, and with a castle in complete disrepair and think "They've got more than me."? Who lost more than we did during the war? It's a good place to start, and debt always leaves a trail."

"That's not a bad place to start," he said, and Cordelia nodded. He was impressed by her line of thinking and something of it must have shown on his face.

"I'm a teyrn's daughter, Alistair. I know how to survive politics." She pointed at the stack of parchment on a table behind him and the scrolls piled in a basket near the door. "And I can help you with that, if you'll allow me."

He assented and took a third piece of pie and another roll, using it to mop up the gravy left behind on his plate. If he was going to have a long night of paperwork at her side, he'd need the energy.

"Is there any more of that cheese from earlier? Some of that was so good. Oh, but what about fruit? What's for afters?" she asked, looking up from cleaning her own plate to take the last roll.

Alistair laughed as she did, and Cordelia looked up and smiled at him. Maker, it felt so good to laugh with her, and he reached out and took one of her hands in his, kissing her buttery fingertips as she succumbed to her giggles.


	7. Chapter 7

He slept with her again, but they were more tired this time than before, though she was glad he'd sealed his promise to her. They went to bed late, the two of them eating and reading, theorizing and kissing late into the night. Callie, bored with them and full of food, left to curl up on his own bed long before they went to bed.

The next morning it was Alistair's lipless maid that woke them both, removing the dishes from the night before, and bringing the requested leather armor for Cordelia. Alistair's suite at the palace was a fascinating place -- apparently he'd only brought her water for the bath yesterday because she'd requested hot water. Tepid water flowed into the bath from the aqueduct system that Cailan had installed in the palace and had planned to roll out to all of Denerim in time. Alistair had running water like the dwarves, mage lights and the thing that delighted her the most, an indoor water-toilet to use instead of chamber pots. It made living in such close quarters with a strange man more bearable.

Despite the dust and the decaying rocks of the palace edifice, it was a luxurious place to live. It just didn't seem that way from those that only saw the workmen and the repairs it needed on the outside. The king, comfortably ensconced inside his large suite, rested on fine washed linen bedsheets atop his feather mattress, underneath a light summer coverlet embroidered with the royal crest, and made for him with little Grey Warden sigils in each corner. His canopied, curtained bed hid Cordelia from view of the other servants that came in shortly after the first maid and cleaned the outer chambers.

Once they were washed and dressed, Teagan came in. He gave both her and Alistair a knowing look, though Cordelia was armored and in no way indecent when he came in. His smile was just that side of smug that made her feel like she'd gotten caught doing exactly what he expected of her, but she couldn't care. Her stupid heart fluttered at the thought of Alistair, and she liked him too well to let an opinion get to her.

"Last night Cordy and I started narrowing down people that might want to take her for ransom," Alistair said, sitting down to breakfast with her and Teagan.

"The guards report no success searching the city last night, but there are a lot of criminals that were apprehended and all of them must be interrogated by the city guard before the royal guard can see them. However," he paused and looked grave as Cordelia bit into an apple tart. "I do have distressing news, Your Highness, Lady Cordelia. One of our guards was murdered, and we suspect it was she that took the bribe to get Lady Cordelia into the false carriage."

"What do you know?" Cordelia asked, forgetting her food as she waited to hear what Teagan had found out.

"Royal Guard Fianne of Amaranthine," Teagan said. He pronounced the name as Fee-Ann, and the name itself without even knowing the woman who'd held it, made Cordelia annoyed and disgusted.

"Always damn Amaranthine," Cordelia interrupted. "I'm sorry, go on."

"Fianne was sponsored for the guard by the late Bann Esmerelle, who was caught conspiring against the Wardens by the Warden-Commander and died at a farmhold where her and her co-conspirators were gathering. Lord Guy, Lady Liza Packton, Lady Morag and Ser Timothy along with several Antivan Crows. Fianne was brought on under Cailan's reign, so we have no idea if she turned or was always disloyal. She was found by her partner, Ser Paulinus, who has turned himself over for questioning."

"So we need to find who Fianne was working for now that Esmerelle was taken care of," Alistair said, musing. "Is Leliana around?"

"No, Your Highness. She is at last report, in Val Firmin," Teagan answered.

"Are any of her spies here?" Alistair asked, half-joking but Teagan answered him.

"Yes, they are. I assume they have their own orders from the bard, but they were left here to make sure you were well. I can send Riva, the one pretending to be an apprentice to the horsemaster to you."

"Please do. If that's all right with you, Cordy?" he asked, looking over at her.

"Yes, that will be fine," she said, her mind distracted. This was like a bad day in Highever, with too many parts that didn't fit and her father trying desperately to fill them all in. Except now her father wasn't here and she was trying to paint over any gaps that might lead to her, and all of Ferelden was her canvas.

"Did you make much progress in your investigations last night?" Teagan asked blandly. From his tone he expected that they'd fucked most of the night away, but Alistair was very good at staying on task when he needed to, and only taking her to bed when they'd actually done some work.

Cordelia reached out to pour herself more tea, and liberate a pear from the tray of fruit. "My idea was that someone who wanted money from our barren treasury must not know the state of things in Highever. Almost every coin we make in tax goes back into the teynir, to pay the families of the fallen, to rebuild cities and maintain what little wasn't destroyed in the fighting. Fergus has, I think, reestablished some of the cushion we once enjoyed, but not nearly enough to keep the walls from falling down around him in Castle Cousland."

She went on, thinking as Teagan and Alistair listened to her ramble. "We started with who we owed debts to, but my parents were good at not owing anyone. Then I thought of Oriana's family, could they be demanding satisfaction for the death of their daughter and grandson? While it could happen, it isn't likely -- my parents died too. If they thought it a conspiracy, my parents would have lived, and if they knew my mother at all, she would have given her life to save any of them. She did to make sure I stayed alive."

"Teyrna Eleanor was a woman of uncommon bravery and skill," Teagan said, and Cordelia smiled.

"Thank you, Bann Teagan. I miss her terribly," Cordelia replied with equal sincerity. "With the Wardens taking out most of the banns that were allied with Howe along the coast, and my family still holding Highever and the Storm Coast, I don't know of anyone there that might want to lay claim to our supposed wealth."

"Your family holds the bannorn of the Storm Coast?" Alistair asked, and she nodded.

"My mother's family, the Mac Eanraigs," she said, pronouncing the familiar name easily.

"I think we're dealing with someone further south, and without many resources of their own," Cordelia summarized. "But they're here in Denerim too, and probably came for your party."

"So we need to keep the nobles in Denerim," Alistair added. They'd talked about this last night, and they'd come to the same conclusion.

"We need to have another party," they said in unison. Teagan sat there, chewing on his food and thinking.

"I agree. Let's make the arrangements today for a party at the end of the week. We could announce your engagement there," Teagan said, making both her and Alistair start.

"As a ruse?" Alistair asked but Teagan shook his head.

"It would work to draw out anyone that thought they could extort money from Highever this way. They will surely be tempted by the greater prize of money from the crown, but the two of you were meant to meet and marry, however the plan went awry."

"We just met," Cordelia protested. "Alistair is very nice and all, and I like him a great deal,"

"Thank you," he said, smiling over at her.

"You're welcome," she said, turning back to Teagan after they were done. "But we should have more time to get to know one another."

"There isn't time, and this is why you were sent to Denerim. Did you not wonder why your brother didn't come? He wanted you to meet Alistair, as did I. We were to have you meet, and then work on negotiating a marriage contract, if you were amenable. Clearly the two of you are quite _amenable_ to each other. This is about more than love, it's about duty to your country. As you've pointed out, we're short on nobles, and there are few eligible Ferelden noblewomen, of them you are the most prominent. And I know you to be sensible, intelligent and fearless. A good match for a young, active hero king."

This is what her father had been trying not to push her into her whole life, and her head spun at the gall of it all. Her parents had been clear -- no marriage contracts, arrangements or dutiful compacts had befallen her under their watch. Her brother, apparently, had no such ideals. With a frown on her face Cordelia shook her head, angry and tired. Her sense of betrayal was so great it made her chest tighten so much it was hard to speak. She understood, oh yes, she understood the reasons behind such machinations perfectly, it would mean stability in the north to have a Cousland queen, and the favors alone would restore Highever. But it would also keep her away from Highever, which Fergus didn't think was safe. Neither was Denerim, if this attempt was as serious as they thought it was. The idea of it, not discussing it with her and just sending her on to Denerim to meet Alistair without her consent, that's what hurt her heart.

She sighed heavily. There were, as always, too many pieces at play here. Alistair was looking at her with great concern, but Cordelia found she couldn't meet his gaze. There was no good reason to not become his wife, save for that she barely knew his personality, although her body knew him quite well. If she'd had it in her to blush at that thought, she would have.

"Teagan, she did her duty, she fought. You were her commander at the battle of Denerim. She took back her home and continues to rebuild it. You cannot ask her for more," Alistair said, steel in his voice as he did.

"No, he can," she said softly, standing up. "I just need some time. Alistair, Bann Teagan." She walked away without waiting to be dismissed, closing the door between Alistair's bedchamber and his outer reception so she could fall stiffly to the bed.

Out of the clutches of kidnappers and into the royal bed had seemed like such a good escape at first.

#

Alistair sent Teagan away after his announcement that he was to marry Cordelia. No one had asked either of them, it had just been decided as if he wasn't King of all Ferelden. This felt a little too much like being back in the Chantry, ordered to do things he didn't understand because it was 'for the best'. He'd seen her face when Teagan made his suggestion. She didn't want this. He was not going to marry a woman he'd just met because she'd been forced into it. Cordelia was back in bed, and he kept his steps quiet as he approached.

"Cordy?" he asked, and the bundle in the middle of the bed lifted the coverlet off her head to peer up at him. She looked so small between the blanket, her brown eyes too big in her face.

"You can come in, but you have to take your clothes off. It's too warm for clothes."

Alistair did what she said, stripping to his smallclothes and slipping back into bed with her. When he did, something inside of him eased when she reached out and slipped her arms around him. If it was up to him, he could have just proposed to her. Why did Teagan have to announce that they would wed, like his word was law? If they'd had time to get to know each other on their own, Alistair felt certain they could have come to some kind of compromise. But this, he shook his head slightly, looking over to see her hiding beneath the blanket like a child. This was wrong.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked in a whisper.

"Yellow. What's yours?"

"Green. But not just any green, the way the long grass near the shore looks in the summer. Green with a bit of yellow in it."

"I've only been to Highever once," he admitted.

"Let me take you to the beach, the one where the water is so clear and blue it makes the sky look dull in comparison. You can see the fish clearly, and they swim around your ankles when you stand still. I want you to see it," she insisted, and then added in a smaller voice, "if we are to be married."

"That sounds amazing," he answered. What she meant by inviting him to see Highever with her wasn't lost on him. She was sharing her home with him, or at least making plans to do so. "You don't have to marry me, or anyone, you know," he said, but she shook her head.

"I can't do better than the king I'm already sleeping with right? But I hate not having a choice, for it to be this barter and agreement type of thing. Even if they did mean for us to meet, couldn't they let us become friends? Couldn't I have chosen you, asked you to marry me one night at a moonlit fountain while we laughed about how we met?" she asked, sounding far too forlorn for his taste. He didn't want a wife with regrets about everything that happened after their first few nights together. As much as he understood her distress, he also knew she'd go along with the plan.

"Let's do this," he said, sitting up. It was hot under the blanket and it fell off both of them as he did, bringing a welcome whoosh of fresh, cooler air over them. "Let's not let an engagement get in our way. You and I get to know each other, and if we just don't think we can get along in a month or two, we call it off. Teagan said that at the earliest we'd get married in three months. So let's just go along with it. If you ever want out, all you have to say is that you can't do it anymore, and I'll let you go. I'd rather you be happy than tied miserably to me."

She lay there on her back next to him, and he couldn't help but stare at her exposed breasts as she was lost in thought. Alistair wanted her again, but he decided that it was better to let her dictate the terms of their relationship, since he felt like he was always ready to be with her. That was a strange feeling for him, but he accepted the attraction between them, even if he didn't quite understand it. Cordelia was so lovely and not at all self-conscious about her body, and he appreciated how comfortable she was -- she made the best of her situation, no matter what it was.

"I think I _like_ you," she said, and Alistair chuckled.

"That's a good start."

He understood what she meant, even if she hadn't come out and said it. They didn't actually know each other. He had only vaguely ever heard of her before the masque and now she was in his bed. For the longest time he hadn't actually thought himself capable of this -- sleeping with a woman he didn't already know and love, but being king had made him something beyond lonely. He'd already done things that he'd never thought imaginable, made hard, anguishing choices. Sleeping with a beautiful anonymous woman on a warm, moonlit summer night hadn't been the worst choice he'd made by far, but he didn't want to continue just sleeping with Cordelia, not now. If he were honest with himself, it was important to him that they genuinely like each other, not just share an amazing sexual attraction.

Her thoughts must have wandered while his did, but he turned back to her when Cordelia sat up on one elbow and smiled at him. "So this plan isn't completely objectionable. We just have to make sure I survive until the end of the week. We should look into the guard Fianne and figure out what she was doing, and go from there. Also, we should see if any mercenaries have been hired in secret or bulk lately, neither of those signs are good for us."

He was once again in awe of how tactical her mind was, and the ease with which she could set her own discomfort aside and think reasonably. All good traits for a queen, but Alistair was getting ahead of himself. Marriage wasn't something that was in his plan, but in all honesty, he wanted to be with someone, though not just anyone. Just the past half day of having Cordelia hiding in his rooms had given him a boost, but he wasn't going to pretend their physical relations weren't a large factor in his buoyant mood. The fact still remained that he liked her a great deal, liked sleeping with her and working with her. If last night was any indication of the nights that lay in a future together he was ready to sign up for it.

She took his hand, startling him. "We should try to get to know each other," she said softly, smiling at him. "Outside of bed."

"I'll tell you what, meet me downstairs for practice and we can get you set up like a proper palace guest at last," he said.

"But then I won't get to sleep here. I rather like that part of hiding." Cordy grinned at him and he laughed again, feeling light as a feather.

"You can have the adjoining room, and I won't tell anyone if you sneak into my chambers to sleep every night."

"Sneaking works both way," she said, grinning at him.

"Ah, but my bed is the biggest. I'm _king_ , you see," Alistair said, and she laughed, the sound of it bringing him back to the other night when he'd taken her to the fountain. He could learn to love that laugh, he realized, if she really was as she seemed.

But that was the problem wasn't it? Was anyone as they seemed? His mind drifted to Guard Fianne, serving for so long with secrets and malice in her heart. There was work piling up everywhere, but they needed to know about Fianne and hear what Ser Paulinus had to say. Alistair leaned over and hesitated, but then kissed her cheek. She blinked up at him, but still gave him her easy, sweet smile.

"What was that for?"

"Well, just because," he stammered, feeling color flush his cheeks. "We need to get going, and I wanted to say goodbye for now. You should talk to Paulinus, and I have to deal with everything from yesterday and whatever's come in today. I'm sure there's plenty of work to do. Who would have thought it, running a kingdom?" he joked, earning her musical laugh at his paltry jest. He liked her, he really did.

But she must have agreed because the two of them got up and redressed, Alistair opting for the clothes he'd just taken off rather than armor like Cordelia put on. He watched her as she secured her hair again, the long braid she wore was a liability in battle, but she twisted the braid into a neat coil on the back of her head. When she caught him looking, she explained further, "I have a spiked strap I braid into it as well, so if it comes loose and someone thinks to pull on it, surprise!"

"Ouch."

She shrugged. "Better than getting my hair pulled out. Shall I meet you in the practice yard later?" she asked, and he gave her a smile and a nod in answer.

Was it wrong that the thought of sparring with her made him more than a little excited? She was reputed to be a formidable opponent, and he was sure his guards were letting him win. Not that he wasn't good himself, but he wanted someone that wouldn't hold back. Cordelia didn't hold back, at least not that he'd seen so far, and that excited him. Alistair didn't think it was too unseemly to have some level of happy anticipation about seeing her in practice yard, and then after. It was the thoughts of after that made him start whistling to himself as he went into the adjoining room to pick up all the work they'd done the night before, and steeling himself to see Teagan again.

#

Cordelia hadn't been prepared for the questioning.

It wasn't speaking to Ser Paulinus that was difficult -- the knight clearly knew nothing and was remorseful about not seeing the truth about Fianne -- but the guards had caught her carriage driver.

"He was passing badly made counterfeit coins," a guard told her as she stood outside the cell where they had him imprisoned. "He confessed to driving you away readily enough, but won't say anything else. Captain's thinking about racking him."

"Racking him?"

"The, uh, torture rack, my lady. Excuse me for mentioning it, but sometimes we can only get the truth out of them if they think they're in danger."

"King Alistair allows this?"

"It was the policy under King Cailan. It's just continued since then. I'm not sure the current king even knows, to tell you the truth, my lady."

She shook her head. Her parents might have done such things in Highever, she couldn't say, but her stomach twisted at the thought of torture. "Then that's something to bring up with him, but not now. Let me see this man before I go in there."

Cordelia was shown to a heavy wooden door locked with two locks and chains. He was certainly being kept under heavy guard for a counterfeiter, thought she did suppose it counted as both theft and fraud. Perhaps he'd offended a noble or rich merchant by passing his bad coins, they would certainly prosecute him to the fullest extent of the king's justice. They could be touchy like that, especially when it came to money.

The guard instructed her to look through the slit of the door, and she stood on her tiptoes to do so. When she saw the face of the man, who'd turned towards the door at the sound of noise outside, she slammed the viewing slit shut and gasped. He had been a small man, nondescript face, average build, with dirty brown hair and pale eyes, but he had a winesplash birthmark on the side of his neck.

"He was following me," she whispered in shock after she'd slammed the viewing hole shut again. "I recognize him." Her voice shook as she said it, but she didn't know whether it was with fear or anger. Perhaps a mix of both, leaning more towards the fear side. "I saw him twice in Highever before I came here. I just thought he was another delivery worker."

"Kidnappers do that, my lady. They learn your routine so they know when to nab you."

"Do you know his name? Where is he from?"

"We don't know, my lady. Won't answer any questions we put to him about who he is."

"Let me speak to him. I should compose myself first before I do." She took several deep breaths, steadying herself. The guard lightly cleared his throat.

"We'll bring him upstairs, my lady. It will take some time."

She nodded, feeling a little foolish and followed the guard back up to where they would question the man. Cordelia wasn't nervous but rather shaken; she'd started to feel safe again, and now she was confronted by how safe she hadn't been even back in Highever. Maybe this was why Fergus decided she needed to get married. The citizens there were still mourning the loss of the rest of her family. If they knew she was in danger, or worse, if she was hurt or killed, the morale of the people would nosedive. Fergus would be seen as an inadequate protector, despite his service in the war.

Maker, even now that she was staring to glimpse how great the threat was, part of her was so betrayed by her brother's assumptions. She knew he had a good reason, one she couldn't wait to hear, but it stung to know he'd planned with Teagan to be rid of her. Even if that wasn't the way he'd intended it, it was the way it felt to her, her heart was heavy with the thoughts that her beloved brother didn't want her around Highever anymore.

But she didn't have time to nurse that pain or even sort through it at the moment. She was still hiding, gone underground for all intents and purposes, and there were more important matters vying for her attention. It was the least of all her problems and she could sort it out when she saw Fergus next. What she wanted to know was why she'd been targeted by a counterfeiter, or at least someone that worked with one. There were so many pieces to this puzzle that she couldn't see the full scene yet.

Hopefully, this man would illuminate more of it for her. Cordelia stood and gave him her best regal nod as he was forced into a chair and chained to it by the guards.

"You know who I am?" she asked, and then man nodded. He looked away from her, but not before she caught his storm grey eyes. They were clear, intelligent eyes with a hint of stubborness. She drew herself up to her fullest height and waited until he looked up at her again, making sure to hold his gaze until he looked away. This time he flinched when he did. "Good. Let's begin."

He would keep no secrets from her.


	8. Chapter 8

When she went down to the practice yard later that day, the guards were expecting her. They were already skirmishing with each other and no one seemed surprised at her presence, while a few even greeted her by name. Whatever had been said about her, no one questioned that she was now a guest in the palace and a personal friend of the king, but King Alistair was absent from the yard. She went up against one of them, a woman with a giant two-handed sword that made Cordelia do more dodging than sparring, but it was good exercise and a way to wait. And wait. Then wait some more.

It was a wise choice to send her in to fetch the king when she was still waiting a quarter of an hour after her first match was over. Cordelia was led to him quickly, and got to see Alistair when he wasn't aware of her presence. He was wearing his armor, so at least he had intended to come down to the yard. She stood in the door, waiting, admiring the broadness of his shoulders as he was bent over a map on his desk. His hair was lighter, caught in the sunlight from the window as he read on, oblivious to her presence.

"You had your hair cut, Your Highness?" she asked, standing in the doorway. He looked up at her and smiled, and Cordelia felt her heart flutter as she smiled in response. Alistair had a very nice smile, one that radiated sincerity and ease. Cordelia put that on the list of things she already liked about him.

"I thought it best. Wouldn't want people not recognizing me from my official portrait," he said. She laughed as was intended, but the look he was giving her had turned quizzical. "You look like you're waiting for me, my lady."

"But I am. I was down in the practice yard with the royal guard, who thought it best if I were the one to come looking for you."

"Oh right. You know, I hadn't forgotten, it was just busy, one more thing turned into twenty more things," he said, giving her a sheepish look of apology. "But I won't keep you waiting any longer." He paused and put away the map, rolling it carefully in his gauntleted hands. "You were right you know," he said conversationally over one shoulder as he put the map with several others and into a cabinet. "Last night."

"You'll have to be more specific, some of the things I said aren't really fit to be repeated right now. I was quite certainly correct about those things too, but I doubt that's what you're referencing," Cordelia said, and to her surprise, she felt her cheeks heat at her own jest. At least she could be confident that her blush wasn't visible, but it was a little silly to be embarrassed now.

Alistair however, laughed softly and she realized he'd come closer after putting his maps away. He was leaning up against the desk, his face thoughtful as he took her in. "I meant when we were working on the reports and you were telling me about Amaranthine. Not that I didn't enjoy the naughty bits too, well." He cleared his throat and went on, "There's always something going on there, in Amaranthine. Was there a lot of unrest there, during the Blight?"

She shook her head. "No more than anywhere else in the north. It was afterwards when it got messy, but you know that, since the Wardens were involved." She wanted to step over to him, stand in front of him and kiss him, and that urge surprised her. There was such a strong attraction between her and Alistair, but she didn't know him well enough to do that. Having sex was one thing, intimacy was another, and she wasn't sure how to cross that bridge with him yet.

"The guards there are reporting that people are still upset about the Wardens, even though they saved the city and are continuing to govern fairly. But I can't tell what that might have to do with you," Alistair said.

"Unrest and upset are words that can cover a world of hurts. It at least merits more investigation. I wish I could help you further, but I learned nothing from Ser Paulinus. If Fianne had some grand scheme she was following, she hid it well. More likely she just got orders she followed, burning the letters or getting them passed on in person." Cordelia sighed, and then added, "I should tell you about the carriage driver. He was caught using counterfeit coins."

"I know," he said. "But let's save that for dinner, when we have time to talk privately. We can actually eat in the small dining room tonight, now that we're engaged. For now, my lady, I promised you a chance to take out all of your frustrations in a sparring match," he said, grinning at her.

It was when he grinned that Cordelia figured out that he was uncomfortable, a lingering effect of the announcement this morning. He'd never shown signs of being discomfited at her presence before, so it had to be because of their betrothal. At the mention of sparring, something within him eased and she was for the first time greeted by the same honest smile that she'd seen when they'd first met. Well, maybe not then, since he had been in shadow most of the time, but it was close. She too had been tense and uneasy after speaking with Teagan, and his grin loosened the tension in her shoulders.

"All right, King Alistair. Let's see what you've got," she said and started to walk out of his study. When he didn't follow she turned on her heel and added, "I hope you continue to live up to the Warden myths."

He laughed at that, the unexpected mirth pulled from him honestly, the sound of his merry laughter crackling with electric amusement. Cordy couldn't help but join in, so infectious and pleasant was the sound of him. He was still smiling as he closed the gap between them, and took her hand in his. It was awkward, with the armor they were both wearing, but somehow, he made it work. Then he dropped it, pulled the door closed behind them and took it up again. He shot her an unexpectedly shy look as he said, "I hope you don't mind."

"Not at all," Cordelia replied as they started down the hall together. She was going to tell him that he'd held more than just her hand when they were alone together, but she held her tongue. Servants bowed low as they went past together, and she realized that this moment didn't need more innuendo or words. It just needed to be.

#

She was nearly as fast as Zevran, and that was saying something. For someone that hadn't been sold to a guild of infamous assassins at an age in the single digits, trained as a bard in Orlais or by the Wardens, she was a formidable fighter. Cordelia's form and stamina spoke to some serious training, the kind that would have cost good coin to get. What had Bryce Cousland been doing with her in Highever? Had he merely been indulging his daughter or was she meant to lead his troops? It was a question for later, Alistair realized, when her dagger whizzed so close to his stomach he barely had time to lean out of reach.

The dagger was blunted, but in the moment he forgot that. He forgot almost everything, the guards around them, the heaviness of the humid air, and focused solely on Cordelia and the battle between them. He was good at one-on-one combat, having bested Loghain to win his crown. And he was sort of a hero, though he didn't really like to call himself one. But he was a Warden, and had plenty of combat experience with the Blight and all. Cordelia was still giving as good as she got from him, and he was already sweating with exertion.

The practice yard was by no means private, so he'd known they'd have an audience. What Alistair hadn't expected was for everyone else to move out of their way and stop practicing just to watch the two of them. It felt like fighting in those illegal Proving matches in Orzammar all over again, but this time there was no scent of dwarven ale in the air around them. His guard and the other knights grinned at each other as he and Cordelia circled each other warily, their opening gambits passed but still testing and teasing one another.

"You're almost as good as the stories say, Your Highness," she taunted, teasing as she darted in towards him and spun out of reach before he could connect with her.

"I try to live down to expectations," he said, making her laugh. He heard the merry giggle in one ear just as he felt her on his other side and correctly dodged her blow. On an impulse he swept a foot out to try and catch, but she was already gone and he had to work to regain his footing. "Who taught you how to fight?" he asked, trying to keep her from seeing his misstep.

"A little bit of everyone. Knights, rogues, traveling bards, my mother, you know, the usual." She grinned at him, and it was a little sweaty, and a lot sweet.

"Highever sounds like it was much more fun than Redcliffe," he said, as his shield just managed to connect with part of her. Cordelia didn't manage to move completely out of range in time. They danced then, both more desperate but still careful, their moves quicker, harder. She grinned at him and it was more like she was bearing her teeth than a true smile.

"So Redcliffe was the home for handsome, wayward princes?" she asked, laughing once more as Alistair's practice sword cut the air next to where her left side had been. He wasn't trying to hit her, because if he had been, he would have taken her ear off.

"I don't know about that. Eamon probably thought it was the home for petulant templar recruits," he admitted with his own laugh. It was an almost breathless, huffing sound, proof that she was actually making him work for this.

"Because Arl Eamon is a man known for his fine temper and sense of humor," Cordelia said. She managed to come up behind him again, but Alistair caught her with his shield. His arm, always powerful, had the backing of momentum as he swung his shield and he sent her flying. He could only gasp as time seemed to slow down and Cordelia soared a few feet before landing unkindly on her back.

"Lady Cordelia!" Alistair cried, genuine distress and guilt in his tone. She lay sprawled on the ground, one of the practice daggers had flown out of her hands at impact. He was by her side in an instant, his weapons forgotten as he kneeled down beside her. As he leaned over her, Alistair heard her breathing, labored and shallow, but it was steadying as he listened. She opened an eye and gave him a grim smile.

"Your Highness, we've sent for the healer on duty," a guard called out to him. Alistair acknowledged the statement with a wave, not looking away from Cordelia.

"You win, Your Highness," she said in a soft voice, still laying on her back in the dirt.

"We'll have a rematch one of these days," he promised her. She started to stir, but he stopped her from sitting up. "Stay, until the healer gets here."

"You just like me on my back," she whispered, making him laugh again.

"I do at that. Not very gentlemanly of me to admit though, my lady, but I find I can't lie to you."

"Your Highness," the healer said, striding out of the castle. "If you'll allow me, I can take a look now."

"Right," Alistair said, moving away from Cordelia by a few feet. Her eyes followed him and though she didn't sit up she sounded more like herself when she started talking to the healer.

Stupid, stupid Alistair. He couldn't marry her if he did the damn job of the assassins for them. Reminder to self, don't break new, beautiful fiancée. Maker, he could feel the color flooding his face as he blushed like a fool. When he looked up, a few of his guards were giving him reproving looks. He hadn't even meant to connect with her, it was just a stroke of bad timing. But he saw it in their eyes, he should have let Cordelia best him. When he looked back at the healer, Cordelia was sitting up and a flow of golden light was centered on her ribs. Fantastic, he'd broken something.

His spirits were already low and they plummeted knowing that he'd dealt her a serious injury. He watched, growing more sullen, until the healer was finished and Cordelia was helped to her feet.

"King Alistair, if you don't mind, I'll need an arm to lean on up to my room," Cordelia called out to him. He went at her bidding, taking her carefully around the waist and leading her inside. Their weapons would be taken care of by the guards left outside, who were starting to go back to their own training now that he and Cordelia were finished.

"I'm sorry," he said automatically, but she shook her head.

"No need, we were sparring. And you're quite good at it, my back won't forget that. I should have just taken you to bed again and been done with it. Now I'll need a nap before I can even consider it again. Possibly a very hot bath too."

"Getting you a hot bath would be the least I could do to make up for knocking you down," Alistair offered and Cordy turned to give him a grin.

"I was hoping you'd say that," she said, as Alistair led her through the entrance to one of the secret passages that led to the private apartments.

The passage was locked, of course, and at the other end there were three guards, which discouraged the servants to use it casually. The only person he'd ever met in there was Bann Teagan, who he'd been trying to avoid in the first place. His night vision was better than most, and his eyes adjusted quickly -- he could run through here if he was alone -- but he was mindful of Cordelia and her injured state.

He stopped just inside the passage to let her eyes adjust further and leaned over to kiss her. He felt her start, but the surprise melted away quickly and she was kissing him back. Her hand, which had been resting on his arm, snaked around to his back and pulled him closer. Sparks ricocheted through him at her touch and the intensity of her kiss. She was so warm, healing did that, and he could feel her heart beating in her chest. If he kept kissing her now, if he opened his mouth and let her prodding tongue in, he was likely to push her against this filthy walls and have her here, and she was in no shape for that. Alistair broke the kiss, but only because he didn't want it to go too far with her bruised and injured in a dark hall she wasn't familiar with. Despite how it ended, their sparring had left him hot, and attuned to her slightest movements, his blood pumping with no release in sight.

Maker, he wanted to do so many things right now, but he wasn't sure about any of them. All he could do was apologize for her hurting her. He had injured her, and that guilt is what brought his traitorous and overheated body back under his control.

"I'd didn't mean to hurt you," he said, voice husky.

"I know, and you don't need me to forgive you for an accident, my King. Next time I'll get you," she said, and gave him another small kiss that just missed most of his lips in favor of the corner of his mouth and stubbled cheek. "But I'm mostly fine already, so no real harm done. You could do real damage, even with a wooden practice shield, with an arm like yours. I'm glad I was mostly just winded."

"I am too."

"You said something about getting me a hot bath? I'm not fully recovered yet, you know," she continued and he could hear the grin in her voice now, see a slight glint of her teeth as her smile caught the faint light of the lanterns lining the walls.

"Come on," he said, moving out of her embrace and once more leading her up the stairs.

#

Cordelia sat on her new bed in the room adjoining Alistair's and marveled at how strange things were. Here she was sitting in the chambers that might actually become hers if she married and was queen, though she couldn't imagine not sleeping with Alistair if they were married. The room she'd been put in was very clean, obviously the consort's chambers because they were attached to Alistair's by a shared sitting room, where they'd be dining tonight. Alistair's plans to eat in a more formal setting were ended when he helped her out of her armor and saw the dark contusions that covered her whole side. The broken ribs she'd had were fixed, but the bruises would need more healing and a salve.

After the water began to cool, it wasn't useful to sit in the bath anymore, so Cordelia wetly went to her bed. The injury, even with healing, was making her tired. She sat atop the counterpane, still wet and nude with her towel underneath her, just the way she would at home. Cordelia sat, skin slowly drying to air temperature as she just...did nothing. Alistair was in the adjoining room, and she could hear when dinner was brought in, the door carefully closed behind the servants after they set everything in place and left. Someone must have come back, because she was vaguely aware of voices again in the next room, but she tuned them out.

The shirt he'd lent her to sleep in was hanging over the edge of her chair, and with a sigh she went to slip it on. It took more effort than she thought it would, her body protesting at movement now that it started to rest and recover. The bruises were bad, throbbing in pain as the soft lawn shirt slipped over her and she fitted her arm through the sleeves. When she was done, she had to sit back down again on the bed and catch her breath. She wanted to go into the other room and have dinner, but the door needed to be pulled, not pushed on her side, and for that, she needed more strength. The last time she'd hurt like this, it was during the Blight.

She needn't have worried, Alistair came knocking at her door not long after. He saw her, tired, her hair still damp and limp, clad only in his shirt, and gave her a sympathetic look. "I thought you might have gone to bed."

"I can't open the door on my own," she admitted, and gave him a sheepish smile. "I was working up to it."

Alistair crossed over to her and without asking, scooped her up, taking her in his arms as if she were weightless. She hooked an arm around his neck, the other pressed against his chest and they crossed the few paces to the next room together. They were just in the doorway of the adjoining room, a pleasantly decorated room with a small window and several bookshelves when she shifted in his embrace and he looked down at her.

"You aren't wearing smallclothes, are you?" he asked, an eyebrow quirked. He looked amused and a little wary and Cordelia felt herself flush.

"I didn't think to put them on. It was enough just to get the shirt."

Alistair didn't answer her, but his hand slipped a little lower on her thigh, back towards her knees, and the arm around her tightened. She nuzzled her face into his chest softly, and Alistair leaned to carefully place her on the settee in the room. He was so careful not take advantage, even when it was completely inadvertent. She wasn't sure if she wished him to or not, but she knew if he had, she probably wouldn't like him so well. King Alistair was charming because of his thoughtfulness, not despite it.

"I should have told you what I found out from the prisoner this afternoon," she began, but he shook his head.

"There's no need, I read the report from the guards while you were in the bath. Are you any better?" he asked, just as she reached out to take some fruit from the table and winced. The food sat on a large, low table between her settee and his chairs, the table laden with food and decorated with orange roses. As Cordy looked around, she noticed more sprays of orange roses around the room, obviously freshly brought in for their dinner. If she could reach one, she'd bury her face in the gentle scent of it, but her side hurt too much for her to overextend.

"I think I may need to put a salve on this, otherwise it will be too painful on the morrow." She took a bite from the warm fig and sighed. Her belly was nearly empty after sparring and being injured. Wordlessly, he moved a plate of cheese towards her, encouraging her to eat more.

"There's some salve I use in my room. Wait here," he said and got up.

"I don't have any other plans," she called after him as he left, and heard his chuckle echo back to her.

"Here," he said when he returned, holding out a mostly empty large jar filled with greenish ointment. "This should help."

"The bruise is on my side Alistair. You'll have to apply it for me," Cordelia told him. He agreed, rolling up the sleeves of his fine clothes and then carefully lifting her shirt. She was mostly out of it when he was done exposing her side, added tension tightening the air around them as he started to apply the pungent salve to her wound. The scent of it was sharp and warm, elfroot and embrium and calendula mixed together with a few notes she couldn't quite name. His fingers were steady and sure, touch light as he worked, starting near her underarm. The bruising had spread.

"Did you ever meet your father?" she asked, looking up at him. He tensed for the barest hint of a moment, hands stilling on her skin, almost too quick for her to notice. "Forgive me, Alistair," Cordelia said, apologizing for her misstep.

"No, it's fine. I never get used to thinking of Maric as my father, though people ask me that question all the time. No, I never met him that I can remember, though I am told I was brought to him as a baby by my mother," Alistair's hands were still, and when she looked up at him his gaze was far away. "He disappeared when I was in the Chantry, so I never had a chance to meet him as a man."

"And your mother?" Cordelia asked, but Alistair shook his head at her.

"Question for a question, my lady."

"Oh?" she asked, intrigued, "Go on then."

"What of your parents?" Alistair asked, his hands still carefully applying the salve to her bruised side. She could feel the pain starting to ease from it. "Will you tell me of them?"

"Father used to sing while he did what you're doing, tending my wounds after a lesson or fight. It always helped me feel better," Cordelia told him with a smile.

"You want me to sing?" Alistair asked, huffing a slight laugh as he did. "No, no, no, no, no, I can't sing at all. All we'll have is regret."

She laughed and his hands stilled on her side while laughter made her both smile and grimace as she jostled her wound. The healing warmth of the bath had worn off and though Alistair was applying the salve, he wasn't quite halfway down her side yet. "Mother used to make a tea with my healing potions in it," Cordelia went on, "as Father patched me up. He had a light touch for a swordsman, a good field medic. But he always insisted that I practice, that I know how to fight. If Fergus hadn't been the heir and so well-trained himself, I think I might have led Highever's army. It was my hope, at one time, but Mother wanted me to marry. She teased about getting more grandchildren, my brother had a son, but I think she just wanted me not to have to fight. At least, that's the way I've thought about it since she's been gone."

"You wanted to know about my mother," he said, when she'd drifted into silence and memory. His large hands were rough on the skin even through the salve, brushing against her like sandpaper whispering over silk. "And now you know as much about her as I do, which is to say, nothing. For years I thought her a maid at Castle Redcliffe, that I had a sister with a family out there, but that tale was false. The woman I thought was my sister wasn't. I was given misinformation to keep me from finding out about her."

"I wonder why," Cordelia mused, just as Alistair finished his work. Carefully, he pulled his shirt back down over her, so she wasn't exposed anymore, and Cordy silently mourned the loss of his touch. She sat up as he leaned back, and though they were close, neither of them reached out to the other, but she ached to touch him, just as she wanted that afternoon in his study. Alistair stood up and handed her a fur blanket. It was a warm night, but she understood; if she kept it on her side, the heat would help keep her muscles from stiffening.

"So do I, but it doesn't matter now. Whoever she is or was, it doesn't change who I've become."

"And who is that?" Cordelia asked, but he shook his head at her again.

"It's my turn, my lady," Alistair reminded her with a mock stern look, and she nodded in acquiescence while hiding her smile. He didn't ask immediately, instead going to the basin in the corner of the room to wash his hands first and wipe off the excess salve. "When you and I are together, am I good?" he asked, and she saw his ears turn red at the tops when he asked.

"Yes, in all honesty. You are...unpracticed, but that's something I can look forward to enjoying as well. Your energy and stamina are both fine, and you listen well, not that I've given much direction. And your body is," she trailed off with a pleased sigh, remembering the hardness of his chest and the well formed planes of his stomach, and how they felt against her, on top of her. Cordy looked up a moment later when she felt his gaze. Alistair was smirking at her.

"Well, I guess I'll keep all of that in mind. I've never had a woman sigh before when describing me. At least, not a happy sigh. That was happy, wasn't it?"

"It was," she affirmed with a smile at him. The admission made her feel coy, and Cordelia leaned over to take more food just to have something else to do. He came to sit back in his seat, the one he'd taken up before applying the salve to her discolored and pained side. When she looked up through her lashes at Alistair, he was watching her, his hair limned in a bronze glow from the lantern light. "And I take it you like me as well?"

"Of course I do, and I'll give you that one, because I led us down this road. If I said you were beautiful, it wouldn't be enough to do you justice, but I don't have the gift of poetry." He paused and then went on, "You asked me before who I was?" Alistair thought for a moment, dropping his gaze to the table of food between where he sat and she lay, and started piling a plate high. "I am a Grey Warden and King of Ferelden, but there are days when I feel like neither of those. I grew up without parents, without those good memories of home and hearth, and it's unlikely I will ever be a father, but I do wish for a wife, a companion. I'd like a family, even if it's just two people. So I guess it's no surprise that I'm a little lonely here. But I like doing my duty, and it is challenging, which is better than many paths my life could have taken." He stopped and took a bite of his food, just as she was settling back onto the settee with a roll of her own. "So I'm a lonely king, but from what I've heard most of them are, and an orphan who wants a family."

"And a hero," Cordelia added quietly.

"One who's been trying not to stare at your bare legs all evening long," he said with a laugh. Instead of breaking the spell between them, it compounded the feeling, so that Cordelia found herself rising from the settee to go over to him without even thinking about it.

Alistair put his arms around her as she sank onto his lap, keenly aware that there was nothing but his clothes between their hips. One of his hands ran up the length of her spine, underneath her hair, lighting a fire up her back with his touch. She leaned into him.

"Who are you, Cordy?" he asked in a whisper.

There were a million things she could say: A Cousland, smart, compassionate, tired, hunted, dedicated, grieving, but she didn't pick any of them. Instead just kissed him, because right now, she was just a woman who wanted to kiss him until they had to come up for air.


	9. Chapter 9

It started out as a very good day for Alistair, until Fergus Cousland arrived.

Last night she'd still been in pain, even after he tried to treat her side with the salve, so he'd summoned another healer for her. It was his fault, after all, and he'd been worried she wouldn't be able to sleep comfortably without it. After dinner he'd brought her to her room, helped her put on more presentable clothes and had her healed. He'd intended to leave her to her rest, but she'd come to his bed then, insisting it would be easier to sleep with more space around her and promptly fell asleep before he could argue.

This morning, as the sky cleared and dawn broke, he'd woken up to find that she was just awake and sitting on the edge of his bed. Her mabari, Leopold, had come to the palace as she'd predicted, but since she'd fallen asleep early last night, she hadn't seen when he'd brought both Leo and Callie to the room to sleep. A pillowed dog bed, on the side of his bed that Alistair was starting to think of as hers, lay her sleeping dog. He heard her gasp, and if he hadn't already been awake, that would have been enough to do it. But then she was on the floor and he heard her kissing and hugging her dog into wakefulness, talking to him as if she'd found her best friend after years apart. She whispered, still mindful of waking him and not knowing he was already up and listening.

Alistair sat up in bed, intending not to intrude but to let her know he was there, but she didn't turn back towards him. With her dog at her heels, Cordelia stood in the soft light of dawn and started to get ready for the day. Off went his shirt in one careful swoop, and Cordelia went to stand nude in the full-length mirror to see her bruising. He saw it before she turned away, and it was mottled terrible colors, but yellow and healing around the edges. Cordelia examined it in the mirror, poked at it with a finger, wincing when she got towards the center and then surprised him by meeting his eyes in the mirror.

"I didn't mean to wake you, but thank you for bringing Leopold here. I've missed him so much," she said.

"Good morning, my lady. I'm glad you and your dog are reunited. That," he nodded at her side, "still looks ghastly. I can get the expert healer today, and hopefully set it right for good."

"That would probably be best. I doubt I could manage a breastband or corset with it like this," she agreed. Her dog whined at her distress and absently, Cordelia reached down and patted him on the head.

Now that he was sitting up and looking at her, despite the bruising, Cordelia was making things within him stir. As much as he wanted to pull her carefully back into bed and kiss her, he had to be about business this morning. He gave her backside one longing look and then turned his gaze away from it, busying himself with his morning routine. When he was clean, he called for the healer from Denerim, and made it known that they needed to put some speed on this request. This was the third healer she'd seen since yesterday, and he was not pleased that she was still injured.

They were both dressed and ready for the healer when they came, Alistair helping her comb and braid her hair and then slipping a loose dress over Cordelia so she could be decent for company. It was just past eight in the morning when she was done, her side still tender but mostly healed, and his jar of healing salve replenished with a new one. He was taking her, hand in hand, to breakfast, because he was starved by now, and because a note had come while she was with the healer. Fergus Cousland had arrived from Highever, riding hard after the raven arrived with the news that his sister had been kidnapped. He hadn't known that she'd come to the palace afterwards until Teagan's message caught up with him at a coaching inn when he was changing horses on his carriage.

At breakfast that morning they were met by Teagan and Fergus, the latter of which pulled Cordelia into a crushing embrace when she walked into the morning room. He was dusty, though he had changed from travel clothes into courtier's grab, and looked so exhausted he might fall over, but there was no denying the relief in his face when Fergus saw Cordelia. Relief, right up until she started yelling.

"I cannot believe you!" Cordelia shouted, and as she did, Alistair nodded at the servant near the door. He went to shut it quickly, keeping her from being heard by the entire palace as she rounded on Fergus and Teagan. She was still yelling, but Alistair only heard snatches of it, because Fergus was yelling back at her.

"It wasn't a trick!" Fergus protested, looking chagrined.

"I deserve to have a _choice_. I'm a freewoman of Ferelden!"

"Lady Cordelia," Teagan tried to break in, but both siblings whirled on him. He took a step back and straightened his shoulders.

"Teagan, don't try," Fergus began, but Cordelia shouted over him.

"Hold your tongue, Bann Teagan or I will cut the meddlesome instrument from your mouth. This is between my brother and I and I will thank you to leave it that way," Cordelia said, then turned back to face her brother and yelled in his beet red face, "You mendacious fuck!"

Teagan didn't look mollified by her threat to cut out his tongue, but Alistair put an arm across his chest and eased Teagan back into his chair. "She, uh, she needs this. Let her get it out," Alistair told him, sotto voce. This had been welled up inside of her, making her unsure and tipping her normal fearlessness towards timidity. He could feel the difference in her from the night they met -- that bold, carefree and confident woman -- to the one she was now, a woman trying to emulate normalcy while she was so scared and angry that the sheer volume of her emotions threatened to break her from the inside out.

"I am an adult, and this is my life. No one made you choose Oriana. Why wouldn't you at least respect me enough to talk to me about it?"

"You weren't safe!"

"I wasn't to know that? I wasn't able to guard myself because I was kept in the dark and look at what happened? Father never wanted this. He warned us!"

"I am not our father!"

"It's so good that we agree on that point! I don't need another father."

She'd argued Fergus into a chair, all relief at their reunion gone from his face. They were getting to the heart of it now, of Fergus's fear and her anger. An ocean of grief and guilt lay between them, and Alistair knew he was only glimpsing the surface, the barest understanding of what the cost of losing their parents had done to them. Fergus deserved this rebuke and probably more, but it wouldn't do to draw it out to cruelty. Alistair let her yell for a little longer, but when Fergus hung his head like a chastened dog and no one was quite meeting her eye, he knew it was over. He went over to stand in front of her, and bend the few inches it took to put their faces on the same level. She stopped yelling as he did, tears shining in her dark eyes.

"Cordy." He said her name once, but she shook her head at him, jaw set, gaze dropping to the stone floor beneath their feet. "Cordelia, I am your _King_. You'll come with me now," Alistair said, putting every ounce of force he could muster behind it while still keeping his voice gentle. When she nodded, he took her hand gently in his and started walking out. "We'll be back," he said to both Fergus and Teagan, "everyone take a breath and have some tea."

He took her out, along the passageway that led into the heart of the castle, walking quicker than he would normally. She was going to start crying soon, and he needed her to be away from everything. When they reached a very large and ornate set of double doors, Alistair pushed them open and they were both thrust into a room filled with sunshine and light. Cordelia gasped, sounding much as she had that morning when she first saw Leopold.

"Is this your library?" she asked, looking awestruck. "It's beautiful here."

"It's my quiet place," Alistair admitted, feeling a little silly to call it that. "I thought you might need one."

"There's so much light!"

"I had the window panes enscorcelled to add extra protection," he admitted, but he too liked how much light the large picture windows let into the library. It was part of what made the room one of his favorite places.

She dropped his hand to walk around the room, and he waited, watching her dab at her eyes a few times as she made a slow circuit. The library itself was the newest and most impressive room in the palace, and he'd been waiting to show her. Anora decided to have the space redone to house more tomes when she was queen, but the Blight had taken all the raw materials she'd had set aside from renovations. Afterwards, the credits and contracts were still there when he took up the crown, and he had the library made to suit his tastes. He'd wanted light, lots of books, paintings and a place that felt like the kind of quiet reverence he wanted to find in the Chantry but never did.

The shelves were filled with books, many of them added since he'd become king. He liked reading mostly histories or governance books, but the odd bit of fiction caught him up in it as well. Alistair looked around the room, seeing with her eyes all of the heavy brown shelving, the white velvet curtains that added brightness to the place, and the thick carpets that covered nearly all of the cold stone floor. Since she'd come, he'd had blue and white vases of orange roses added all over the castle, and he watched, gratified as she bent to smell a large spray of them as she wandered around the room.

"I'm sorry that was so ugly," she whispered, taking a shuddering breath.

"I know it was about more than it seemed," Alistair replied quickly. "You don't have to talk about it now, or apologize to me, but I'm sure Teagan is a little upset at the thought that you're going to cut his tongue out." He chuckled as he said it and she looked over at him from two shelves away from him and gave a small smile.

"My temper gets the better of me rarely, but I was in fine form today. It was like I was channeling my mother. Wait, where did you get a copy of _Les Liaisons Dangereuses_?"

"Les what?" he asked, thrown by the change of topic.

"I had to sneak this from Orlais when I was fifteen. Mother almost caught me. It's banned, you know, because everyone the characters are based on are still alive and at court. I thought I knew who the Valmont character was supposed to be before, but the more I know about Orlesian politics, the less I am sure," she said.

"That must have been in there before I became king," he admitted. "I've never even heard of it."

"It's a tale of wicked seduction," she summarized for him. "And how it ruined the lives of those involved." As she spoke her eyes locked onto his again, and this time she didn't look away. Something must have shown on his face because she started to laugh. "It is VERY Orlesian. There is a wager, and a man seduces a Chantry sister who's been pulled from her vows to marry strategically. I'm sure a bard could do this story much more justice than I ever will."

She pulled the book from the shelf and started walking towards him. "You should read it," she said, her eyes sparkling dangerously as she handed the tome to him. It was surprisingly slim.

"Will it give me ideas about our seduction?" he asked and she laughed merrily.

"Only if you plan to despoil me and send me to the Chantry dishonored like Sister Cecile in this book, or to die fighting for honor and proclaiming your love for me as the hero Valmont does for Madame de Tourvel. Valmont was rumored to be Grand Duke Gaspard de Chalons, but I have my doubts now. It's simply amusing," she said and shrugged. "You and I can make ideas up all on our own for us, though I hope we have more than a seduction between us at this point."

Alistair pulled her into an embrace that might have turned into a kiss or two. She nuzzled her face against his neck as he held her, and Alistair struggled to remember the last time he'd held someone like this, anyone. Maker, she was so soft in her day dress, and he put his arms around her because he could do so now without her flinching in pain. Alistair inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of her skin and his soap on her, feeling the sun filter through the window to warm his back in the places where she wasn't touching him. He liked this closeness with Cordy, more than he'd liked anything in a very long time. She drew back from him and he caught her chin in his hand and tipped her eyes up to meet his.

"It's more than a seduction, my lady. I want it to be more," he told her, voice turning deeper and softer as he confessed his growing feelings. Her answering smile was so warm and sweet, he could have lived in it for years. Sadly, they had to get back before they were gone too long. Her brother and Teagan would only wait for a short while, especially after that scene, and he took her hand in his and led her back out towards the breakfast they'd abandoned so she could apologize.

#

The first blast shook her feet from under her, but Alistair was as sturdy as an oak and caught her around the waist. Fergus abandoned his seat and came away from the table as it began to sway ominously, pulling Teagan out of the way as well. As they all rocked, the remains of the breakfast table quaking atop it as their goblets spilled onto the floor, the guards came for them. The royal guard removed all four of them from the area, and it was then that Alistair let her go, but only so she could walk at his side.

"What's going on?" Alistair asked, his voice all stern and commanding.

"Your Highness, we need to get your party to safety as quickly as possible. Can you all run?" the guard asked, evading the question. Cordelia was wearing flat shoes, so she technically could run, but her long skirt would make her strides shorter than normal, though it did have a nice slit to her knee that helped. Alistair gave her a questioning look and she nodded in response.

"I'll be fine," she said, just as Fergus came up on her other side. The guards took one look at her, as another deafening crash and quake came from further down the hall and the whole group of them started to run all at once, Cordelia doing double time just to keep up with their longer strides in her skirt. Whatever was happening was so very bad on a day that hadn't started out very well at all.

They went down a hidden hallway that was very much like the one Alistair led her through the night before after they'd sparred, but this one went deeper. She could feel it growing colder, the air taking on a earthy scent as they ventured underground. Alistair led the group now, his vision was very acute in the dark space, with guards clanging on at their backs. It felt like they ran in the darkness forever, but they emerged outside of the palace walls and into a small house via trap door. A guard went first, declared it safe and let Alistair go up before any of the rest of them.

She threw a look over her shoulder at Fergus before climbing up, but couldn't see her brother's face. Fear was making itself known inside of her, making her grip clumsy and her hands sweat. Cordelia knew those sounds and that particular boom. Someone had been attacking the castle with the kind of bombs that fused magic and might, the kind that Arl Howe's men had once used on her family. Fergus wouldn't have recognized them -- he was already marching to Ostagar during that attack, but she did, and their mother would have. Panic threatened to make her run and keep running, to put as much distance as she could between those noises and this attack and herself. It was the same instinct that had spurred her, Dairren and Leopold in the wrong direction as they fled Castle Cousland, winding up in the outskirt farms of Lord Eddlebrek's lands. Maker, it was so long ago but it was all coming back to her in the flashes of light and dark as she ascended up the ladder and into a dimly lit room.

The room was like so many of the rebuilt houses in Denerim, but better. She could see that it was scrupulously clean inside, the slate floor new and unworn. The room was bigger than it had seemed when she first looked around, and unlike many of the houses in Denerim, it had proper rooms, not just the one divided into sections around the hearth. The simple furnishings were well-made and there was a door that went to another room -- perhaps a bedroom or kitchen area.

"Where are we?" Fergus asked from behind her, sounding a little dazed. He was tired, she knew, and should have been resting. His ride from Highever had to have been hastily arranged to come so far so quickly, and he had meant to retired to bed after their breakfast meeting.

"In hiding," Teagan replied tartly. "Whatever was happening at the castle, this is the quickest and first stop on the way out of it." At Teagan's words, she and Fergus exchanged a _glance_ , and Cordelia dropped her gaze to the floor afterwards, her mind working quickly. Word had only gotten out about her presence at the castle recently. This attack was likely related to her or both her and Fergus being in the castle. Someone had an axe to grind with the Couslands, and their very presence was putting the monarchy, such as it was, at risk.

"I'm not sure what was happening, Bann Teagan, but our orders were to get all of you to safety as quickly as possible and to wait here," their guard replied. "Particularly the king and Teyrn Cousland."

"You and I are just along for the ride, Bann Teagan," Cordy said, giving him a soft smile. He relented and shot a wry smile back at her, forgiving her for her earlier anger. Breakfast had been tense, but they'd mutually apologized, he for overstepping with Fergus and she for her temper. Teagan busied himself with learning what was going on, issuing the orders and commands to the guards.

Alistair looked almost bored as they waited, getting up to walk from the room into what she figured was a bedroom once he came back and suggested Fergus rest there. Her brother however, was already fast asleep sitting up in the chair, practicing the soldier's habit of sleeping wherever and whenever one could. Cordelia went into the room instead, following Alistair back into the room and sitting on the bed while he changed into the armor left there for him. Covering the bed was a plain green counterpane, perhaps a little finer than seen in most bedrooms in Denerim, but nothing close to the way the palace was decorated. The armor Alistair was pulling out to put on was finely made and maintained, but was plain as well. There was nothing in here to connect it to the palace, and Cordelia saw the planning and deliberation in those decisions. This safehouse wasn't used lightly.

"There's more armor in here, leather, if you want to change," Alistair said, turning to face her. He was shirtless but still wearing his fine trousers and boots. She didn't bother to look where his hand motioned at the armor.

"I can't stay," Cordelia said simply, looking up to meet his eyes.

"I knew you'd say that when I saw that look between you and your brother. I don't want you to go, Maker knows I don't want you to leave the castle, but it's not safe there either, damn it. We need answers and you can get to them quicker than I can."

Cordelia blinked in surprise at him, and Alistair gave her a hard little smile. "I thought you'd protest my plan."

"Will it make you feel better if I do? Cordy, I don't want you to go, know that, but this wasn't a random attack. No one comes to the palace with bombs without the intent to kill," Alistair said quietly, his voice sober.

"I am so sorry for everything," she started, but Alistair came over to her. Cordelia stood, anticipating an embrace, but he kissed her. Alistair's lips were soft and tasted faintly of the jam he'd been applying liberally to his toast at breakfast just minutes before they had to flee, and for a few seconds, Cordy couldn't do anything but let him kiss her. He kissed her like he hadn't yet before, with force and unsaid words and desperation behind it. When she woke up and kissed him back, letting his tongue into her mouth, pulling him closer, her fingertips felt some of the tension start to ebb from the taut line of his shoulders. All of her was invested in this kiss too, reeled in with the feel of his stubbled cheeks under her gentle hands, a hip pressed closer into his, two bodies without any space between them so tightly wrapped together they couldn't possibly stay upright for much longer. He kissed her until the worry and fear between them melted into nothing but dizzying heat that had her pulling at his remaining clothes.

Cordelia wasn't going to let their strange circumstances stop her. If she was going to leave Alistair and go into peril, the kind where people had bombs, he wasn't going to forget her. Her hands slid inside of his trousers after he whispered for her to go on when she asked, and Alistair was so hard he groaned at the merest brush of her touch over his cock. She kissed a messy trail down his chest as she dropped to her knees, grinning deviously up at him. This would be a game of timing, getting him off before anyone realized why it was taking them so long. Alistair looked confused, his relative innocence showing itself again until she kissed the head of his cock and wrapped a hand around the base of it, then he closed his eyes and let his head tip back. She felt the hum of satisfaction thrum through him as she sucked the wide head of his cock gently, her hand moving slowly back and forth until she found the right rhythm.

If she'd had more time she would have tried to draw it out more, but this too was another desperate parting kiss. It wound itself up like a clock, the moment coming faster, sooner, harder than either of them could have predicted. Alistair was tense, sad, desperate, and so responsive to her touch that he nearly crumpled into it. He climaxed without the need for her best tricks or even any really good ones, just Cordelia on her knees with a willing and eager mouth. Alistair came hard, as if their chaste night before had built up a reserve inside of him, and his hands gripped her shoulders so hard that Cordelia was sure they'd leave the best kind of marks. After he finished with more of a low growl and muttered oaths than when he was inside of her in his bed, Alistair shuffled the scant distance to be the bed with his trousers around his boots and sat down heavily on it, panting slightly as he gave her a glassy-eyed look. She sat down next to him and Alistair surprised her again, by not pulling her into a kiss, but taking her hand.

"I know you can't promise, but come back to me," he said. There was such weariness to the words, she almost wanted to promise him all the things she didn't want to dare to dream about. She'd come back, victorious with the bad guys slain. They'd be together, even if they weren't married, they could be together, take their time, and be friends as well as lovers. They could have quiet dinners, state dinners, go on trips to Orlais and Antiva together. Cordelia could finally best him in a sparring match. Life with Alistair could be something she hadn't thought about since Dairren asked her to leave, it could be shared.

She wanted nothing more than to come back to him, to all of this. All she could do now was come back and make it so, try to will it into a life that she would actually enjoy waking up and facing.

"I promise," she said defiantly. "And a Cousland never makes a promise they can't keep."

Alistair's answering smile was sad as he pulled her into a kiss, but Cordelia pretended not to notice and concentrated all the intent in her heart on kissing him back.

#

Cordelia pushed herself through a window on Dairren's second floor, and waited. She knew the layout of this place, but his guards wouldn't look kindly at her for breaking in. It was unavoidable thought, because she trusted Dairren with her life, and no one else could know she was here. Maker, she hadn't wanted to bother him, not at all, but she had precious few resources right now. Giulia might have taken her back to the security of the castle she'd helped get her into, not understanding that she couldn't be there right now. There was a leak in the palace, and Cordy was sure that it was in the guard ranks, but not who it was. She hadn't been paying enough attention the last few days, caught up in Alistair and hiding, until she wasn't. She did know that now the she was gone, the guards, the bad ones would look for her. Alistair was counting on it. But Giulia couldn't know that, and the guard would come question her and Ser Giulia was honor-bound not to lie to them. Happily, Dairren had no such restrictions.

She made her way through the house on silent, swift feet and slipped into Dairren's study. It was a risk, but she knew he wasn't abed yet -- he never went to sleep early. His lady wife was in her confinement back in his bannorn, so Cordelia had no worries that she'd run into her. Her note should be delivered soon anyway, and he would know she was here. He would help, she was sure of it. Cordelia purposely cleared her mind of all thought and listened, truly trying to hear the house as it went on blithely with its night, not knowing that a stranger was among them. She hid and listened, willing her limbs not to cramp up as she waited.

Dairren came after not too long, still holding her note. When he closed the door to his study behind him, they were both plunged into near-complete darkness, and Cordelia blinked to force her eyes to adjust.

"Cordy?" he whispered, the sound of her name tremulous and unsure as he spoke it into the obsidian darkness of the room. He'd gotten her note on time then, good. She'd worried she might have to sleep hiding in his study.

"Here," she said, dropping down from the shelf were she'd been laying, moving quickly so she could light the lantern before Dairren started to grope his way around in the dark. He beat her to it, lighting a candle in his hand with the striker he had ready. The flint sparked and he lit candle, the familiar smell of tallow and beeswax curling into Cordelia's nose. Dairren put the candle in a holder on his desk, the light flickering, as he rushed forward to catch her in an embrace.

For the second time that day she was caught off-guard by a kiss, but Dairren's was far less welcome than Alistair's had been. Time stopped as she forgot herself and was kissed by a man that knew her so well, his kiss so familiar that she didn't realize that it felt wrong until they were well into it. But it was wrong, so different and yet oddly comforting. It, or rather he had once been home to her, but now she missed Alistair's stubble and the quiet strength of him cloaked in his respectful consideration of her. Dairren, smooth shaven and soft where Alistair was muscled, hard planes of man, didn't feel right anymore. He wasn't her man now, if he'd ever been. Cordelia put her hand on his chest and pushed him away slightly, then more forcefully so they could break the kiss. When he released her, she stepped out of his reach to close the curtains and prepare the lights in the room.

"Diarren," she started, but stopped. What was she going to say to him about that kiss? She'd never rejected him before, not even after he'd rejected her first. He hadn't tried since he'd been married, but she hadn't sought him out either. Now that she thought on it, this was the first time they'd been truly alone together, not at some dinner or function, but alone in close quarters since he'd been married. "I didn't come here for that kind of visit."

"You're in love with him, _aren't you_?" he asked, a note of resignation lacing his tone. "Yes, I suspected King Alistair was smitten with you when he came here, but you care for him as well, don't you?"

She shook her head at him, avoiding his question and the shrewdness of his eyes in the dim room. "I need help," she said, changing the subject. "Someone attacked the palace this morning, and we think they were truly after Fergus and I, though the guards killed the attackers before we could confirm this. Something is going on and it has to do with Highever, but I'm flying blind here. I've been hiding since they tried to kidnap me, and I haven't learned much," she admitted. The failure was bitter in this dark night, when she was alone without Alistair's comforting arms and the protection of his walls and guards.

"How can I help? Cordy, you know you need only ask and I'll do anything you need," he said, looking contrite. His face was more lined than she remembered it, and he'd let his body go soft after the Battle of Denerim, but Dairren was still the boy that had sneaked into her room after his mother went to bed. He was always that boy, because she'd protected him. She loved him with her whole heart, but now that she knew Alistair, it wasn't the same feeling. What she and Alistair had was so new and fragile, but there was such heat and attraction laced into how much they'd come to care for each other, it felt wholly different than the closeness she shared with Dairren. When she closed her eyes, it was Alistair's visage that came to the forefront of her mind, smiling from under the domino that hid his identity from her at the masquerade, or later from across at her in his bed, hiding her without thought to himself or caring about propriety, but because it was the right thing to do.

Cordelia shook her head, trying to make sense of her feelings. "Help me get out of the city. I think what I need is in Highever, but Fergus is here, and everyone will think I am too."

"That shouldn't be a problem," Dairren said confidently, sitting down at his desk. "I can arrange it for tomorrow afternoon, later if you think it better to use night to travel."

She shook her head at the idea. "No, I don't think that's safe enough. Better to start out in the light."

"Right, leave it to me, Cordy," he said, already shuffling papers on his desk. Whatever else Dairren was, he'd made his fortunes grow as one of the foremost producers of timber after Gwaren. He was capable in matters of business and money, and he'd married a merchant's daughter, bringing more capital into his coffers. She was back at Caer Oswin now, heavy with child while Dairren tried to kiss her in his study. The thought turned her stomach sour and made her defensive and wary.

As if he'd read her thoughts, he looked over at her and frowned. "I am sorry for that kiss, Cordy. I shouldn't have, I know. You remain special to me, and sometimes even my own good sense can't overcome those feelings."

"Let's not dwell on it, Dairren. We don't belong together now, and all of our kisses are in the past," Cordelia said, pleased that her voice remained steady and calm. She certainly didn't feel that way inside, angry at herself for sinking into that kiss when she wanted Alistair, upset about how easy it was, how familiar and comforting it had felt when she had her heart set on someone new. Maybe she'd never be over him or his rejection of her, but she wanted her life to move on. As much as he'd once meant to her, she wanted something new, a future that she and Dairren couldn't have. Coming here had been a risk, but she never thought it a mistake until now. She smiled, breathing out carefully and continued speaking as if her thoughts weren't running amok in her tired brain, "But we still have our friendship, and that's the most important thing."

"I'd do anything for you, Cordy," he said gravely, and she turned away from the meaning in his eyes.

"Get me to Highever. I have a mystery to unravel before the end of the week. Have to be back for my engagement party," she muttered, making him laugh.

"If I get you to Caer Bronach, it will go quickly from Denerim. From there you'd just need to get north to Highever. Should be caravans leaving the crossroads after stocking up on supplies," he told her, his eyes back on the sheets of paper on his desk now. He pulled out a map to show her the route, and she recalled Alistair's grand maps, and how carefully he'd put them away.

"Do you need to go to Highever right away?" he asked, drawing her from her recollection.

"Either there or Amaranthine," she said, "But I prefer to go home first, since that's where this started."

"Right," he blew out a breath that hissed between his teeth. "Get some rest, Cordy. There's a guest room down the hall. I'll have someone bring food to your door, but they won't come in. I know how to be careful. You'll need to look the part of a mercenary tomorrow, so you can wear that armor. Don't worry, I'll get everything taken care of by tomorrow morning," he said, and Cordelia believed him. She left him in the room, skirting down the hallway and sticking to shadows until she opened the door to his guest room, leaving the food outside for ten minutes before opening the door carefully and swiftly pulling it in.

Part of her wanted to believe she was just paranoid, but the other part remembered how her parents had died, how Dairren's mother had died from treachery. Even with the double lock on her door, Cordelia doubted she would get much sleep tonight.


	10. Chapter 10

Alistair didn't like not sleeping in his own bed at night, but that was a preference that had come after traveling all across the country during the Blight. A soft, warm bed was a luxury that was no longer the exception but the rule for him, and he hated to forsake it. But it was sharing a bed with Cordelia that he missed even more than his soft feather mattress. Without her next to him, Alistair woke up in the morning devoid of energy after a tense, restless night. He set out to find Riva at his first chance, catching her as she brushed down one of the mounts, singing softly to it. The horses had been badly startled by the explosions, and needed extra attention.

Riva was indeed one of Leliana's agents left behind, and she gave him a disarmingly sweet grin when Alistair took her aside to speak to her. "I wondered when you'd need me, Your Highness," she said in an Antivan accent that reminded him forcefully of Zevran. She grew serious as Alistair began to pace.

They’d come back to the palace after a day away, with the guards assuring them that all was well. Fergus Cousland was still with him, and Teagan insisted that both and his sister couldn’t leave at the same time. Cordelia was on her own, but Alistair would do his best to ensure that her brother was safe while she tried to get to the root of this madness. Hopefully, she could do so in time to get back for the party they’d just announced that morning. King Alistair and Lady Cordelia Cousland were pleased to share the news of their engagement with all of Ferelden. Alistair sighed, wishing that she was still with him, but that desire brought him back to the present, with the attentive Riva waiting for his explanation.

"There's a traitor in the palace," he told her, mincing no words. He had no idea how to say it any other way, even if he was good at all this spy stuff, which he was not. "They seem intent on taking out the Couslands, which I don't want, especially since I'm rather fond of Lady Cordelia."

Riva didn't make a face as he said that, but he could practically feel her straining not to roll her eyes. Alistair made a mental note to praise her to Leliana. He went on, "Someone at the castle had to make it known that Lady Cordelia was there, which I think prompted the attack. Teyrn Cousland being there might have been just bad timing," he mused.

"Or not. Maybe it was someone following him that caused the attack. In any case, we need to make a plan, Your Highness.” Riva waited, and Alistair realized he had to give her some orders otherwise she would just converse with him.

“I hadn’t thought of that. Can you start with Teryn Cousland then, find out if someone was following him? Or maybe we should start with the palace, there is definitely a leak there. There was a guard,” he said and then stopped himself. “Nevermind, but let’s do some discreet investigating. I’ll let you decide how to handle it. I need answers before Lady Cordelia comes home, I mean back to Denerim.”

“Hmm,” Riva said, giving him a look. He thought he might start blushing under her gaze, but then she looked past him, as if their surroundings had suddenly become more interesting. “I’ll report back this evening. I take it Lady Cordelia left to find her own answers?”

“Yes she did, but she will return for our engagement party. Whether or not she has any more answers then will be dependent on what she has time to find out in Highever.”

“Then I hope to help her complete the picture. If you’ll excuse me, Your Highness, I’ll get started.” Riva looked determined, and a band around Alistair’s heart slackened, just a little. They might not be alone in this after all.

Alistair excused Riva, feeling as if he’d unleashed a chain of unexpected events by setting her silent steps on this path. It couldn’t be helped. If Cordy needed his help or information, this was the best way he knew how to go about getting things done.

He hoped it was enough.

#

"Are you truly going to marry the king?" Dairren asked her that morning. Cordelia had nodded, confirming his question but not inviting any more.

She didn't want to give voice to her thoughts, "If I make it back alive," but that was what her engagement and future hinged on.

If she didn't come back alive, there was no real reason to worry about who married whom, at least, not from her standpoint. Cordelia put it out of her mind as she tried to walk off the soreness from her time traveling in the cart. The mail cart was awful, but at least it was regular. Her journey had been made worse by the fact that she had to hide her face, so the already stuffy interior of the coach was made even more uncomfortable by the full helm she’d donned.

Even if right now she could only feel the salty sea air of her home through the gaps in her helm, it felt damn good to be home. Highever was in her soul, no matter what had happened here. Home may have dredged up some of her worst memories, but they came alongside all of her best ones. At least they’d been her best memories until she’d met Alistair. Maker, the nights she’d spent with him, Cordelia shivered just thinking about them.

It was a good thing she didn’t need to pay attention to get to where she needed to be, otherwise she might have missed her turns. Her feet knew the way even when her mind was occupied, but when someone brushed up against her. Cordelia remembered why she was here. It could cost her life for her to be distracted. No matter how lovely the memory of Alistair’s bare chest was, she needed to focus.

The tavern doors swung open just as she was going to reach from them and a quick side-step to the left put her out of the way. A man was thrown bodily from between the swinging wooden door, and then the woman that threw him shouted after him, “Don’t bring your lying carcass in here again, if you know what’s good for you!”

“Kay, it’s good to see you again,” Cordelia said, stepping back towards the door. “It’s me, Cordy. I need your help.”

Kay turned on her, and took in her ragged armor and the helm. She stood toe to toe with Cordelia, who didn’t take a step back. “What did you get me for my tenth birthday?”

“A break from Nan,” Cordelia answered. Kay was her old Nan’s great-niece, and a year younger than Cordelia. She used to come up to the castle so Nan could watch them both at the same time when Kay’s mother was minding the tavern. When she was old enough, Kay had started working in the bar, but they still remained friends.

“It’s you. Come inside, and tell me what’s going on.”

Cordelia did just that, sliding into the back of the back to Kay’s office, finally able take off the awful helmet. She wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of the hand she’d liberated from its gauntlet so she could remove the helm. It was afternoon hot on a summer’s day, and she was none too fresh in her full armor.

“What are you doing here looking like that?” Kay asked, sitting down across from her after she’d locked the door.

Cordy waved a hand at her, impatient. “Have you gotten any bad coins recently? Any fakes?”

“What?” Kay actually started at her question, completely unexpected. “There’s fakes going around? Let me check the safe.”

She started to explain herself while the tumblers of Kay’s safe clicked nearby. Cordelia watched her back as she worked to open up her store of coin. Kay’s fiery hair was barely constrained at this point, but she had just thrown a man bodily from her bar. Her heavily muscled arms made Cordelia jealous.

“Someone tried to kidnap me in Denerim. The driver of the carriage was only caught because he was passing bad money. But I’d seen him before, following me here in Highever. My conclusion is that someone in Highever has a grudge and needs money. I need to know if that someone has been passing fakes for long, and where I can find more information,” she summarized. She left out the part about Alistair’s former guard, Fiane and Amaranthine. Those might be important, but it wasn’t part of what she needed to share with Kay.

Kay turned, clutching a strongbox and giving her a wary look with narrowed hazel eyes. Hazel, almost the same shade as Alistair’s, Cordy thought, but was brought back to her task when Kay handed her a knife.

“Get to scratching, my lady. Try and put a deep gouge in them so any flimsy wrap of metal will be cut through.”

She and Kay worked in silence for the first few minutes until Kay looked up at her. “There’s been a new merc group in here lately, taking on hires every night. Might be them you’re looking for, might just be a new band of fools.” Kay shrugged her massive shoulders at Cordelia. “And people are mad at your brother.”

“Mad at Fergus? Whatever for?”

“Because he’s our lord and that’s what people do. They’re mad because of taxes, because he isn’t remarried, because he isn’t your father.” Kay gave her another shrug. “Some people love him and you. I just thought I’d mention it.”

Cordelia grunted and kept on working at her pile of coins. She’d found two fakes so far, the silver flaking away to reveal black coal underneath. It wasn’t even covering a copper, it was all just coal. They were better made than the coins in Denerim, she could see how easily they would have been passed. The thought made her sick to her stomach. These things could do real damage, especially if they spread to other countries, which was a completely plausible situation in a port town like Highever.

“Cut your hair,” Kay said, not looking up this time. “It’ll grow back quick enough.It’s too distinctive.”

“Right,” Cordelia said, sucking in a hard breath. “Or I could just braid it.”

“Suit yourself. You can’t get hired as a merc in a mask, they dislike that sort of thing. Not a trusting bunch. I assume that was your plan, to infiltrate them?”

“Seduction probably wouldn’t work,” Cordy admitted, finally getting Kay to laugh.

“You should listen at the bar first, get some idea of the local gossip yourself,” Kay said, scooping up a handful of coins and putting them back into her strongbox. “I’ve got this under control now.”

“Keep that to yourself, unless you want the price of bread rising sky high overnight,” Cordelia advised. Kay grunted at her.

Pushing the good coins to the center of the desk between them, Cordelia busied herself putting her helm back on. If she was going to braid her hair or cut it, that would need to be done first. The good gossip at the bar would wait for the dark anyhow, so Cordelia said her goodbyes to Kay and paid for a room to herself from the bartender. She would braid her hair, but first she had to brush it.

A sob caught in her chest before she could push it away completely. Her mother used to braid her hair for her when she was little, carefully washing it and then parting it into sections before braiding it. She wished her mother was here now. It was rare that she felt so weepy, but this trip had reminded her of what she loved about Highever. It was her home, and if she moved to Denerim, she would certainly miss it.

The thought made her tired. Her feelings regarding Highever were so complicated, but she supposed most people had conflicting feelings about the place they came from. She hadn’t talked to Alistair about Redcliffe, but from what she could surmise about his childhood, it wasn’t something that was excessively happy. He probably had feelings that were similar to hers. If she got back to Denerim anytime soon, they could talk about it.

Cordelia brushed out and braided her hair, doubling the braids over so that her hair didn’t appear as long. Then she did the thing she was dreading -- she hit herself in the soft part of her face with the pommel of her dagger. A fat lip would make her look less like herself, and change her speech. There were worse things she could have done to disguise herself, but this was the fastest way. She hoped she didn’t give herself a black eye, that wouldn’t heal in time for her to go to her engagement party.

Maker, her priorities were all fucked up. With her face throbbing and her hair braided, she made her way down to the main room of the tavern so she could learn how to find the people that wanted to kidnap her.

There were a lot of people in Highever that were still loyal to Rendon Howe. Even in her overtaxed mind, she wouldn’t call him Arl anymore. He relinquished that title long before the Warden stuck their sword through him. It was his fault that she would never see her parents again, and the fact that people wanted him around made Cordelia’s blood boil. She didn’t have to fake her disaffected attitude when she went to talk to the mercenaries that were hiring.

One particular comment stuck in her life a shiv in the ribs, that “Howe stewarded the lands, so it should be his people that keep them”. She supposed it didn’t matter to people that Howe hadn’t actually done anything to ensure that the lands were actually stewarded, and they hadn’t made sure that their taxes were actually collected regularly. Howe had nearly bankrupted Highever in order pay for whatever his desires had run to.

The tavern was getting stuffy and hot, and her patience was near its limit. She approached the group that came and sat in the corner of the bar, taking up two tables to themselves. They were characteristically loud, jeering and joking among themselves, but eyed her warily when she came up to them. She went up to the man that all gazes turned to whenever a decision was to be made, the obvious leader.

“Well look here, we’ve got ourselves a bruiser.”

She almost smiled, but Cordy didn’t have it in her. She grunted rather than actually respond, but crossed her arms over her chest. She waited for the laughter to subside before speaking.

“Looking for work.”

“If you can learn to duck, we might be interested,” the man said, assessing her. More laughter and a jeering voice asking about her face. She didn’t even turn to find out who said it. She didn’t care. There were more important things to learn here besides who was a bastard that liked making easy jokes.

“Can you use those daggers?” he asked, and Cordelia gave him a smile so wicked, he recoiled.

She was in.


	11. Chapter 11

The mercenaries didn’t let her go out on their jobs the first night, since they didn’t require a large group, but a small selection of specialists. Cordelia didn’t know what their specialities were or the job, but it was guaranteed that she was have no part in the profits either. That was fine with her, as long as she got a chance to hear about more jobs, and search for the group that had tried to kidnap her. People asking around for a job like kidnapping a noble for ransom didn’t stay secret for long, other mercs would know about it, or at least have heard something. So she waited with them, knowing that tonight and tomorrow would be a test of her as a person. As she drank with them, Cordelia got to know their names, their mannerisms and more importantly their hierarchy. There was always a more subtle structure than just who was in charge at play in these groups.

That night she said little, but answered the questions put to her, and got into one fistfight to prove her mettle. She’d lost it a purpose, though it pained her pride to do so. Letting all of her training show was a mistake, but she had to put up a good enough fight to show that she was worthy of joining their group. It was a fine line to balance, and gave her some more bruises to add to the collection. They let her go up to her own rented room without too much fuss, telling her to show up early the next morning for an assignment if she really wanted the work. Assuring them that she did, Cordelia left the common room at the same time as most of the others, only the boss, Timmons, and what seemed to be his right hand, Chambers, were left sitting around the table.

It had crossed her mind to go in and talk to Kay for the night, but she didn’t want to blow her cover with the mercenaries. Sure, they could hardly fault her for knowing the innkeeper, but it would be suspicious. Cordelia settled into her own room for the night, without finding her friend. She lay flat on her back in the hard bed with a knife under her pillow and let her thoughts drift to back to Denerim and Alistair. It wasn’t fair to find him now, with all this chaos and strife swirling about them, but nothing had been fair in her life for years now. It was a shame she couldn’t go talk to Kay, to be like they were as girls and giggle about the boys they knew. So many stablehands had become the subject of their discussions until the boldest of the nobles began to send their sons to woo Cordelia and gave her and Kay juicier fodder to talk about.

What would she tell Kay about Alistair? Her friend would laugh at the way they got together, a chance meeting that ended in a tryst with a king. She would find it amusing at the very least, but how could Cordelia possibly explain their attraction to each other? Just thinking on it made her breath quicken and her breasts grew heavier and more sensitive under the scratchy, thin blanket. He had the ability to quicken her pulse just in mere memory. There was so much heat between them, though if there hadn’t been, she supposed they wouldn’t have fucked in a garden after a chance meeting. His body was incredible, the kind of sculpted male perfection she hadn’t ever been able to sample before, since her father’s knights and warriors had been strictly off-limits, but she’d certainly admired such strong physiques. But she had to tell her of more than that, of his earnest kindness and gentle heart. Kay would like that he was so different than Dairren, who’d earned Kay’s ire for they way he’d parted with Cordelia.

Alistair was funny as well, something she hadn’t expected and much appreciated. He was cautious with her, careful because of his inexperience, but it was impossible for him to hide how much he liked Cordelia. She felt the same way, it was just a flutter in her heart now but it could be something good. There was this sense of intimacy she felt with him, the way he came to hold her in the bed when Teagan dropped his bombshell, and how he’d come to pick her up and carry her to dinner when she was injured. Those were sweet things that no one knew about but the two of them, and they’d bonded over those moments during their few days sequestered together.

A yell from downstairs jolted her out of her thoughts. She heard and felt the fight below, the creaking of timbers and people yelling, the shaking of the floor. Her old bed rattled, but her door stayed shut and barred, no one fleeing from the tavern trying to run into her room. Eventually, it quieted and she was left in relative silence once more. Assured by the lack of disruption, Cordelia’s breathing deepened once more, and she relaxed enough to begin resting again. Her interrupted thoughts resumed their course as if she hadn’t been distracted for nearly a quarter hour by the fighting below.

She lay there in the dark, tiny tavern room, wondering how he and Fergus were getting along and if she’d make it back there so she could see him before their engagement party. Maybe in the morning she’d invite Kay to their party. Kay would get a kick out of that, and Cordy chuckled to herself as she fell asleep with her thoughts on the road to Denerim already.

#

The worst thing about staying behind when Cordelia left Denerim was that Alistair worried about her incessantly, though she was more than capable of getting herself out of the worst of situations. She’d proved that when she found her way back to him after the attempted kidnapping, and sneaked past his guards to find sanctuary with Teagan. He was still impressed by that bit of chicanery, though Alistair still fretted when his thoughts turned to her in Highever. The second worst thing about it was that her brother Fergus had stayed in Denerim, and even though he’d conspired with Teagan for the two of them to meet, Alistair had the impression that Fergus wasn’t well pleased with Alistair and Cordelia’s relationship.

He wasn’t sure if it was the swiftness of it that was making Teyrn Cousland cranky, or the fact that they’d managed fine without their interference, but Fergus was decidedly short with his king when they spoke. Fergus was never rude, but he didn’t seem as if he liked Alistair very much, and his good opinion mattered, especially since Alistair was growing warmer to the idea of actually marrying Cordelia. He didn’t want his brother in law to be annoyed with him if he could help it. When he asked Teagan about Fergus and his strange mood, his uncle could offer no real explanation for him, so it was up to Alistair to figure it out if they wanted to have more than a merely civil conversation again.

Quite frankly, he needed Fergus to help him unwind all of this because he wanted to make sure Cordelia didn’t come back from Highever and walk into another trap in Denerim, or that Fergus didn’t go home to one. It would do none of them any good if the Couslands were overthrown again or the line died out. Loyal nobles were supposed to be a good thing for a king to cultivate, but this felt like it was just common sense. Keep the Couslands alive so the prosperous Highever coast can become wealthy once more, and he could govern and make trade deals. It was a bonus that Alistair fancied Cordelia and it was in his direct interest to keep her alive and at his side. With all of that in his mind, Alistair summoned Fergus to him the next morning after his early breakfast. Starting his day without Cordy to share his bed and breakfast with him made the meal much more of a perfunctory detail in the mornings, so he’d sped through the meal and headed to work.

“You asked to see me, King Alistair?” Fergus Cousland asked from the door of Alistair’s study. He looked uneasy, but Alistair ignored that and waved him in. 

Fergus was dressed in his veridium armor, and armed with shield and sword, and guessed that his thoughts had run down a similar path to Alistair’s own this morning -- it was better to be ready for battle than surprised by it. The attack on the palace had shaken up the workers and infuriated his loyal guards. It had made Alistair very wary, like the time they’d been camped out during the Blight and shrieks attacked them. This had that same, tense feeling, and it made him feel like he was being watched and assessed for weakness, but he could never be sure by whom and when they would strike. As King his duties lie mostly here in the capital, and all he could do was make this palace as secure as possible. Work to repair the wall damaged by the blast had already begun, and the noise of it all adding to the background din coming through his window.

“Yes, do come in. I wanted to talk to you about, well, everything. Lady Cordelia is investigating up north, but I thought we should do our part here.” 

“That is good thinking, Your Highness,” Fergus said in a mild tone. It didn’t sound like sarcasm, but Alistair heard it nonetheless and ignored it.

“Thank you, my lord. My agent, Riva, has been investigating parts of the matter. It was my thought after the explosion that there was a traitor in the palace ranks, and Riva has confirmed this, but hasn’t been able to figure out who or how many there are yet.” Alistair sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But as far as she can tell, you weren’t followed from Highever. That is a good thing that they aren’t tailing you, but also not the best news.”

“Since that means they’re focused on my sister for some reason,” Fergus finished. Alistair nodded at him, Alistair was going to keep reciting Riva’s report, but Fergus looked away from him. Instinct told him to let this play out, so Alistair waited in silence for Fergus to speak again.

“It’s not just her you know. I have to get married again too, as much as that thought pains me, I know my duty. I knew she’d be mad at me, but damn it all, Teagan said you’d be amenable and I thought you might convince her. I confess, I haven’t really figured out how to apologize to you for presuming while also not gloating that we were right and the two of you do suit.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” Alistair felt his heart lighten in a way he hadn’t expected with this admission, like sunshine after days of rain. “I don’t require an apology, and I’m sure that Cordy will be fine in time, but it’s more that she doesn’t like being told what to do. At least that’s what I’m guessing.”

“No, you’re right about that, Your Highness,” Fergus said, finally meeting Alistair’s eye and giving him a small smile. “She’s quite stubborn, and always has been since she was small. When you two do get married, you’ll have your work cut out for you.”

“Do you approve of our match?” Alistair blurted the question and then wished he could stuff it back in his stupid mouth. Fergus gave him a measuring look, the kind that meant he was assessing what he wanted to say against what he thought he should say. “I give you the latitude to be honest,” Alistair added, figuring that he was going to dig himself into this, he might as well know the truth.

“Yes, I do. You two haven’t know each other long, but it’s obvious you care for one another. Teagan told me, well, I know how you met at the party, and how upset you were when she went missing. She deserves someone that cares about her, even if the two of you aren’t in love, it is my hope that you can come to love each other. I never got the feeling that Dairren cared about her more than he cared about himself, if you know what I mean.”

“You don’t care for the bann?”

Fergus sighed, blowing it out slowly and taking the time to order his thoughts before speaking. “I’ve known Dairren for a long time, since we were children. He’s a few years older than Cordy. He’s never been impressive, if I’m blunt, but he’s a damn sight better than his father. Loren was one of the worst men I’ve ever known, with few scruples and even less charm. But whatever Dairren said about loving her or their time together, I never felt like he cared for her as she did for him. She saved his life, and Maker knows he wouldn’t have been able to do the same for her if the situation was reversed. So yes, I approve now of you two, because you’ve done everything you can to get to know her and help her, even before you knew who she was.”

What he heard from Fergus began to fall in line with his own, private assessments that he’d made of Dairren. Fergus was saying that Dairren wasn’t enough for Cordelia, and Dairren seemed to agree on that point. At least he’d had the wisdom to let her go find a more complimentary match for her, even if it had ended with her heartbroken. Alistair wanted to ask Fergus more, to see how he could love her better, know more about her, but there were other things he had to discuss with Fergus. Still, the urge was there, nearly overwhelming his good sense. Instead he cleared his throat and said, “I will always help, whenever and whomever I can. It’s what we did as Wardens, and it’s what I try to do as king.”

Fergus didn’t answer him, but he hadn’t expected anything. Alistair went on, “But we have plenty else to do today. These kidnappers that took Cordy, they’re somehow tied to counterfitters here in Denerim, though we’re not sure if their base is here or Highever. I think we should find out. Are you good at sleuthing?”

“Then you should start with Ser Giulia,” Teagan said, interrupting Fergus before he could answer. Teagan came into the room with armfull of papers. “She might remember something that Cordelia said right after her escape, and she’s going to know the talk from people on the ground. She deals with thieves and rogues, and they’re the first to know when coin goes bad.”

“We can go ourselves to do that, and take some guards,” Fergus said. He was already getting up from the table, eager to have a task when Teagan spoke again, this time directing his gaze towards Alistair.

“Your Highness, there are a number of meetings that you need to attend this afternoon, that you absolutely can’t skip, so don’t bother to even ask, Alistair. If you’re going to do start this investigation, I suggest you get started soon. You’ll be brought back here, but by then Riva should have more to report to you, and myself. I am going to make a study of the land surveys around Ferelden, the ones from before and after the Blight. If they’re making false coin, the metal has to come from somewhere.”

“Good idea. It might be from deeper in a mine that was said to be played out, or from a new one abandoned during the war,” Fergus said. “Shall we be off, Your Highness?” he asked Alistair with a glint in his eye. With that ready, avid look on his face, Alistair could see his resemblance to Cordelia at long last. He had wondered when he would.

In ten more minutes time they were leaving the palace on horseback, headed deep into the city to seek out Ser Giulia. Once they’d cleared the air, Fergus was much less tense in his presence, and like any decent officer in the army, good at taking orders and giving them. He had a good mind for strategy and a easy sense of humor that started to show itself as they saddled up their horses. Alistair had to admit, it felt good to have Fergus by his side as they rode out, but he would have rathered it been Cordelia.

#

Her hometown wasn’t the peaceful place where she’d grown up, that much as apparent after just one night here. There was a lot more discontent in Highever than Cordelia had ever dreamed. Most of it had to do with the war, with money, with the lack of prosperity and food shortages. Maker, she hadn’t realized that the food situation here was so bad, but then again there had been so many things Fergus kept from her. She realized now that she’d been deliberately kept in the dark, but unsure about what purpose it served. She could have helped, had she known, had she been allowed.

Hell, she would have helped anyway, even if she wasn’t allowed. She should have made it her business to know, but her heartbreak and finally confronting the loss of her parents combined with the shock of what the war had done to her had changed her. Where she would have been bold enough to sneak out and do whatever needed to be done, she’d willingly acquiesced to Fergus and had stayed in sequestered in their castle until she was sent away to Denerim for the social season. It had been easier at the time to be at home, to rest herself and her spirit and let the new cook and maids take care of her while she ordered books to rebuild their library. Safer to sit there and keep herself busy without stepping outside to see reminders of the past everywhere.

But had she gone out she would have found that she wasn’t alone in her grief. Like her, the people of Highever were still mourning. It was hard to see, to understand why there was this weary undercurrent to all the emotions she felt swirling around the bar the night before, but people were sad. There were those that talked fondly of her father, King Maric and King Cailan in the same breath. There were people that sang the song about her parents, “The Soldier and the Seawolf”, sitting alongside those that missed Rendon Howe. 

People even missed Oriana, for all that she hadn’t lived here long, she was remembered well, and her death and Oren’s were decried as barbaric, though few knew the whole story. When she went into the Chantry, a candle was permanently lit that had Mallol’s name on it. It sat with the candles for the people lost in the war to drive out the Orlesians, those remembered as heroes and liberators by Fereldans and rebellious upstarts by Orlais. Even poor Ser Gilmore had a place on the Chantry wall. How had she not noticed this level of public grief before? Probably because her own was so great that it blocked out her better senses, but now she could see her home with new eyes, and truly saw it for the first time in years.

It was a strange, sad mix of people and memory, of fractured families and disappointment. Life went on, as it did, but here in Highever there was little to be hopeful for and everything to wax nostalgic about. She was actively seeing a place slide into the not so distant past, seeking to exist on the memories of their too brief glory days between battles and there was precious little Cordelia could do about it. The times of milk and honey were firmly in the past, but most of the people alive could remember them, and the once sweet combination had turned sour. Hope was a dish that was off the table here, and she now saw how she and Fergus, sitting in their ruined castle and only coming out armed and fighting, looked. They were the martial guard of a generation hardened by war, so determined to fight for their people that they didn’t see all the other ways to save them.

Maker, was she ever glad she had something to do this morning before Cordelia fell face first into nostalgia herself. The merc group she’d joined was eager to test her, and she was followed by a fierce, tiny slip of an elf woman called Sister. Cordy didn’t ask the meaning behind it, but suspected she’d once been part of the Chantry. Sister was obviously dangerous, and didn’t bother to try to talk to her. The job she was accompanying Cordelia on was just intimidation, shaking someone down for a debt owed. Once she collected the mercs would get a small cut of the money. She handled it was ease, using her most deadly sugar sweet voice and lots of silence. The money was in her hands before she even had to draw out her weapon.

“You handled that well,” Sister said, walking next to her as they left. Cordelia grunted in reply. The helm she wore hid only half her face today, but it pressed on the bruises she’d given herself. These would take time to heal without a mage, a thought that made her mind stray to Alistair for the briefest of moments. Good thing her helm her grin.

“Easy shit,” Cordelia said, making Sister laugh with a surprisingly cute giggle. “Know of anything else I can do? I’m not picky, and I need gold.”

“Yeah, if you really ain’t picky. There’s a few people looking for hands. Don’t know how good it is.”

“Look,” Cordelia said, turning to Sister. They were nearly back to the tavern now, and if she wanted get to any information it needed to be done now. “My family is pretty much gone, and I’m not happy to be back here. I fought in the Battle of Denerim and came back to ruin. I got nothing left to lose here.”

“You might be interested in Leo’s group, down in Amaranthine. Lots of veterans, like you. Don’t know what they call themselves now, but they’re easy enough to find,” Sister told her. When Cordelia didn’t answer, she added, “Could be good work, since they seem to be making steady coin. Leo’s been flush with silver every time I seen him recently. Been thinking of leaving Chambers to hold it down here with Timmons so I can bring us back more money.”

“You’re with Chambers?”

“Yeah. Been together a year I think, maybe more.” Sister gave her a shrewd look with her light green eyes narrowed so Cordy could only see them in peridot colored slits. “You seem like you’ve got someone. Not interested at all last night when Johnny the Rook tried to charm you, and usually he’s in and out of the pants of a newbie before they’ve even gotten paid once.”

“I got the memory of someone right now,” Cordelia said, the half-truth almost too much of an admission to add atop the ones she’d already told Sister. But that seemed to be enough for the elf, who nodded understanding at her.

They didn’t speak more anymore as they walked back into the bar, but when Sister gave her report about Cordelia, she included some praise about how quickly it had been handled. Timmons grunted as he pocketed the coin she’d collected, handing back a few coppers for the easy job. She put them in her purse with a nod, and then went off on her own to inquire about Leo and see if his group was worth the price of passage on the quick caravan down to Amaranthine. She had hoped to avoid the place, but it was situated at the center of this mess, and Cordelia had a time limit on her investigation. If she could be there by tonight, the better.


End file.
